Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Matt tilted his head, walking casually down the darkening street. There was someone walking ahead of him, maybe about half a block, and a figure stepped out of an alleyway, following behind just a few paces.

It was a scary thought, that someone minding their own business could be attacked and hurt for no reason. It was even scarier to think that were he not present at this very moment, the figure walking along, oblivious of the danger they were in, would be in total shitsville.

Thankfully, he was.

Matt was a bit of a bigger guy, about six feet tall and broad shouldered. His roommate often told him that he would be intimidating if he weren't such a nerd. Hoping to use his height to his advantage to scare off this creep, Matt sped his walk up into a run, long legs helping him cover more distance in fewer steps.

“Hey!” He cried.

He threw himself forward, arm outstretched, just as the figure caught hold of their victim's shirt- and then watched in amazement and vague horror as the tiny man, who couldn't be much more than five feet and three or four inches tall, threw his would-be attacker over his shoulder and slammed him into the ground in one smooth movement, and then kicked him hard in the ribs, eliciting an audible crack and a cry of pain.

The man turned around, fists up. “Your turn!” He declared, in a voice that made it sound like he was being offered a hug instead of an ass-whooping.

Matt jerked back so fast he hit the ground, arms raised. “Not the face!” He cried. “I swear, I'm not with that guy! I was going to help you, I saw him following you! I was going to offer to make sure you got home safe!”

The man blinked, then smiled and dropped his fists, offering Matt a hand. “Oh, well aren't you sweet! Don't worry, I can take care of myself.”

“I can see that.” Matt said, taking the other man's hand and somehow still being surprised when he was pulled to his feet with relative ease. “Um, I'm Matt, by the way. Would you mind walking me home instead?”

The man looked surprised, then laughed, giving Matt's hand a squeeze before letting go. “I don't mind at all! I'm Edd. Nice to meet you, Matt.”

Matt smiled back, suddenly feeling much safer on the dark city streets.

Chapter Text

Wednesdays should be canceled. Forever.

They were all very well and good weather-wise, but they were unbearably boring. Who was going to come into a coffee shop on a Wednesday at three in the afternoon? Still, it wasn't as though Patryk had much to do besides this. Coffee was kind of his passion.

The bell at the door rang and he looked up, the swift motion flipping his hair out of his eyes. “Good afternoon! What can I do for you?” He asked, giving a smile.

The customer was a taller man, thicker around the middle than Patryk was, and smelled of cigarette smoke. He looked up at the menu board from underneath a pair of very thick eyebrows, that Patryk couldn't help but find charming, and slammed twenty dollars on the counter hard enough to make Patryk jump. “Three black trentas. Shaken.”

“Coming right up!” Patryk nodded and turned away, watching in the reflection of the coffee grinder as the stranger watched him make his coffee. Three black coffees, iced, all thirty-one ounces. He must be on a coffee run for his friends. Despite his gruff face and voice, he must be a very nice man.

Within minutes he turned around, placing the cups on the counter. He reached under the counter and pulled up a cup holder for him, but the man held up a hand to stop him.

And then, right before his eyes, the man leaned over each cup and drank all three down, one right after the other, without stopping for a breath. He pushed the twenty forward, knocking over a cup of ice with his hand. “Keep the change.”

“Holy shit!” Patryk cried, dropping the cup holder in shock. “Sir! That was- y-you just- holy shit!”

The man didn't appear to him him, too deep in thought to be listening. “Three of them, that should be about sixteen dollars and- no- yeah, sixteen dollars and forty cents.” He dropped a fiver on the counter and nodded. “That should be an okay tip...thanks, uh...” he leaned forward, squinting at Patryk's name tag. “Pat.” He nodded in satisfaction and stood straight again, taking no note of the horrified expression on Patryk's face.

“Sir! Should I- do you need an ambulance?! I-I'll call for you, you should sit- oh my God I can't believe-”

“Patryk.” The man said, his voice firm though his features were now more relaxed. “You don't need to call an ambulance. But you can call me, any time.” The man broke into a broad grin, shooting finger guns towards him. “Listen, pal. I think I figured out how you make such good coffee.”

“What?!” Patryk gawked at him. "Sir!"

“It's how you espresso yourself.” The man grinned even wider, holding his sides as he laughed. (Patryk was nearly hysterical. Did people laugh if they went into shock? Did coffee put people into shock? And most importantly, would he be arrested if this guy died?) "Oh, God, I crack myself up. Sorry, Patryk. I'm not trying to be creepy, I'll go ahead and leave. Have a good day!" He waved cheerfully and turned, heading for the door.

Patryk scrambled after him, barely making out from behind the counter without falling. "Sir, wait-!" Just when it seemed things couldn't get any more hectic, the man crumpled to the floor.

“I'm calling an ambulance!”

Chapter Text

“What color flowers should I get?” Tord asked, looking at all the different ribbons on display. At this rate he'd be in this flower shop for hours, but he wanted everything to be just right.

“Does it matter?” Tom's voice came through the speaker of the phone with a crackle. He really needed a new one soon.

“Of course it matters you walnut!” Tord said, ignoring the puzzled looks from the other patrons in the shop. “We have to match! Oh, but the corsage doesn't have to, I guess, I could make it a complimentary color, oh, or secondary...” He added, as an afterthought. “Yeah, that's good! Tom, what color is your suit and what color is the tie?”

“Wait, me? What?” Tom asked, confused.

“We get a discount on our prom photos if our outfits match, and also I want us to be the best looking couple in the entire gym.” Tord grinned, shifting his phone to his other hand so he could inspect a few carnations more closely.

“Who said we're going to prom together?” Tom asked. “I wasn't going to go at all!”

Tord froze, eyes wide. A single carnation fell dramatically to the floor.

“Oh my God.”

“Tord? What's going on?”

“Sonofa bitch!” Tord cried, slapping his palm to his forehead. “I forgot to ask you!”

“You forgot...to ask me to prom?”

“Yes.” Tord grumbled, bending down to pick up the fallen carnation and put it back on the display. “Oh my God. I can't believe- Tom! Stop laughing! It isn't funny!”

“It's pretty funny, Tord.” Tom said.

Tord smiled, his face all kinds of red. “Yeah...I guess it is a little.”

“Ask me properly, and I'll definitely go to prom with you. And I'll make sure we're the hottest couple on the floor.”

Tord grinned. “As if it'll be much of a competition.”

Chapter Text

“-and then he slipped and did the splits, and good god, you should have heard him scream! Best thing I've ever witnessed.”

Tom laughed, running a hand through his hair. “He would definitely do that. That's why you don't dance in socks on a tile floor, you know?”

“And then there was that one time he picked up the broom and danced with it, and he called it Tom, and-”

“Whoa there, I said I wanted to hear true stories of Edd when he's home alone.” Tom crossed his arms. “Now you're teasing me.”

“No, I swear, he did! And he giggled at it and danced around, and faked like he was being dipped by the broom, except he bumped into a chair and fell down, and he took the whole table out with him!”

Tom blinked. “Wait, I remember that. He sprained his wrist that day! He told me he saw a mouse!”

“Do you really think I'd let a mouse in here?”

Tom whistled and shook his head. “That punk.”

The front door opened and Edd walked in, smiling tiredly when he saw Tom. “Oh, you made it. I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long.”

“Nah, you're fine.” Tom shook his head, stroking the fur on Edd's tiny terrier, Ringo. “I'm sorry you had to find out like that. I really was going to tell you sooner, but I wanted to find the right time. They don't exactly make cards for telling your boyfriend you're a werewolf. Um...that is...if you still want to be my boyfriend.”

“That's what I invited you over for.” Edd nodded, walking over to sit by Tom, shifting so he was facing the other brunet. “I'm really disappointed that you didn't tell me right away. But...you've never given me any reason to distrust you. Even hiding this was more nerves than lying.” He gave a smile. “I still want to be together. Lycanthropy or no.”

Tom let out a breath of relief. “I'm so thankful to hear you say that, holy shit. I'm sorry, I swear I'll be more open with you. Thanks, Edd.” He opened his arms.

Edd’s smile widened and he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Tom's middle and rubbing his cheek against his chest. “Thank you, Tom.”

“Well...” Tom hummed, returning the embrace. “You have some things you weren't totally honest about either.”

Edd pulled back, looking up at Tom with a puzzled expression. “Like what? I would never lie to you about important things, that's not what you mean, right?”

Tom gestured to his wrist, watching as Edd's cheeks flushed pink. “You're important, Edd, and your health matters to me.”

Edd bit his lip, looking ashamed, and more than a little embarrassed. “How'd you know? I was home alone.”

Tom grinned. “Being a werewolf has some...advantages. For example, certain language barriers don't apply to me.” He looked to Ringo, who'd fallen asleep between them.

Edd followed Tom's line of sight and blinked, temporarily shocked, before he jumped up. ”Ringo told you about that?!”

Tom laughed, nodding as Edd pointed an accusatory finger at the dog. “Yeah he did! He's got so much tea to spill, you wouldn't even believe!”

“Oh, someone is so not getting table scraps tonight!” Edd said, his nose wrinkling as he pouted. “I can't believe my dog is such a gossip!”

Ringo looked at Tom with such a look of contempt, even Edd was shocked.

“What!” Tom gasped. “These gossip sessions are the best part of my day!” Ringo got up and walked off to Edd's room, leaving Tom alone on the couch. “Ringo!”

Edd grinned. “Wow, Tom- you're really in the doghouse for this!”

Tom groaned.

Chapter Text

Tom leaned on his desk, doodling muffins and spaceships as their physics professor lectured them on properties of gravity. It was hard to focus sometimes, especially on lectures like this, so Tom had to draw or play with his pen, anything to keep his hands busy, so he could pay attention. He used to get in trouble for it, but thankfully high school was a lot more understanding of learning disabilities.

He drew a tree next, this one in immense detail, as Professor Weber moved on to other gravitational laws.

“Gravity is universal, all objects attract each other with a force of gravitational attraction. Does that make sense?” The man paused, watching the class for anyone who looked like they were struggling or lost. That was another good thing about Professor Weber, he was always ready to help without making the kids feel stupid.

“Yeah, Tom,” the boy beside him grinned. ”All objects. Including me, being attracted to you.”

Even Edd groaned at that one. Tord had never failed to find an innuendo or reference in any lesson, but this was the first time he'd directed one at Tom.

Without a moment's hesitation, Tom turned his notebook page to a fresh one and replied, “My foot is attracted to your ass.”

Tord looked shocked for a moment while the other students laughed, before grinning and returning to his notes, apparently admitting defeat this round.

Tom had a feeling he'd be trying again tomorrow. And honestly, he was kind of looking forward to it.

Chapter Text

Matt groaned, arms wrapped around his middle. “This suuucks.” He whined, tipping onto his side and letting his head fall onto Tord's lap. “Will you pick something for us to watch? I can't think of anything specific I want to see.”

“Sure thing, babe.” Tord patted Matt's shoulder and set up Netflix from his spot on the couch, hitting play on that new horror series that was available. He'd been meaning to try it out for weeks now.

“Will you do the hair thing?” Matt asked softly, obvious pain written across his features. “Please?”

“Of course.” Tord smiled and gently ran his fingers through Matt's hair, lightly scratching his scalp. His hair was a little oily, but he didn't mind. He couldn't imagine having the energy to shower either, if he was bleeding for a week straight, muscles bloating and cramping like they were trying to tear him apart from the inside.

“Why do I want to eat so much?” Matt asked miserably, letting go of himself with one arm so he could grab a cordial cherry off the coffee table. “I don't usually get this hungry. I'm all kinds of messed up today.”

“There's nothing wrong with you, Matt. You need more nutrients, your body is literally tearing down and reconstructing the lining of an organ, it's to be expected.”

“It still sucks.” Matt grumbled, snuggling closer to Tord. “I can't believe I forgot to buy heat packs.”

“Edd will have them in no time, don't worry a thing about it.” Tord leaned over, kissing Matt's head. Well, he tried to, but in this position he only managed to reach his nose. “Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable in the meantime?”

“Not that I can think of. Are you sure I'm not leaking?” Matt bit his lip. “I'm so paranoid. I know I just checked, but-”

“You're good, I promise.” Tord interrupted, pausing his scratching to ruffle Matt's hair. He'd just checked, and everything was fine. “It's so rare that you wear sweatpants, are you sure you're not overheating?”

“I'm sure.” Matt traced lazy circles on Tord's knee, smiling in amusement when his leg jerked. There was always that one spot on Tord's knee that was extra ticklish. “Sorry.” He avoided that one spot, but carried on drawing.

Tord nodded. “Tamara does yoga when she has cramps. Is that a real thing?”

“Maybe for The Rock, who doesn't feel pain anyway.” Matt shook his head. “Yoga...that sounds terrible. Ugh.”

Tord laughed. “I always thought it was a little weird too.”

“Thanks for being here for me.” Matt said, after a slow stretch of silence. “I know this can't be easy for you.”

“It doesn't matter whether it's easy or not for me, Matt. What matters is that you feel better. I'm happy to help you.” Tord smiled. “We'll work through this together.”

Chapter Text

“I always cry at weddings.” Tord said, dabbing his eyes with his handkerchief. “They're just so sweet.” The little old woman in the plastic chair patted his knee and offered him a butterscotch disc. Score. The couple at the front of the crowd exchanged tearful vows and beautiful rings (well, they were okay), and kissed before the priest even finished officiating them. It really was pretty sweet. Tord wasn't sure about an outdoor wedding in the summer, with all the bugs and the hot sun and all, but they seemed happy, and that's what mattered.

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“Are you here with the bride?” A voice behind Tord made him jump, nearly losing all the food he'd stacked on his plate. He turned, finding a man a head shorter than him, and nodded. He wasn't trying to be rude, but he had a mouth full of breadstick and it was hard to talk through so much garlic. “That's nice. She's very pretty, isn't she? Eduardo is a lucky guy. I'm Jon, I'm with the groom.”

“Tord,” he choked out, managing to fight down the dry bread. “Pleasure.” He managed a smile, gratefully taking the glass of water Jon offered him. “They seem happy. I hope things go great for them. If he breaks her heart, I'll have to fight him.” He added, giving a firm nod. He was taking this lie further than he meant to, but as long as he kept his story straight, everything would be fine.

Jon laughed, walking Tord to a table in the shade. “I wasn't sure about coming, after Eduardo and I stopped talking a year or so back, but the free food really sealed the deal.” He said, lowering his voice a little, like he was telling a secret.

Tord nodded, eyes wide. “Me too!” He said quietly, gesturing between himself and Jon. These were probably the only true words he'd said all day, except to Edd this moring when he said he was going to sneak into a wedding for free food.

Jon smiled brightly at him, and Tord found himself smiling back. “Hey, I didn't sign the guest book yet, have you?” Tord shook his head and Jon took his hand. “Let's go do that real quick!" He got up, pulling Tord with him towards the guest book on the other side of the crowd. “Between the two of us, I bet we can sneak more gift bags, too.” He looked back at Tord with a conspiratal grin.

Tord was half stumbling at first, being pulled along by someone much smaller than him, but when Jon smiled at him from over his shoulder, sharing that trouble making grin only true jerks can grin, he quickened his step so he could run alongside him.

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“Do you think it'd be rude of me to ask someone out at someone else's wedding?” Jon asked softly, as the newlyweds shared their first dance. His breath was warm on Tord's ear.

“Do you think it would be rude to crash a stranger's wedding for food?” Tord asked, his voice just as low. “Keep in mind,” he added, wincing as Jon gasped, “that he found someone very cute there, who he hopes to ask out as well.”

Jon’s breath was on his cheek this time, and Tord turned to find him staring at him. “Is that true?”

Tord shifted a little in his chair and nodded, keeping his eyes on Jon's to gauge his reaction. He was surprised to see him smiling again, but it wasn't an unwelcome sight.

“I guess I did always have a thing for bad boys.” Jon said, covering a laugh with his hand so he didn't draw attention to them.

“Then you're gonna love me, Jon.” Tord grinned. “I'm bad at everything.”

Jon laughed again and took Tord's hand under the table.

Chapter Text

“I'm so sorry, I swear I wasn't trying to steal him from you, he told me he was single!” Matt bit his lip. “Please don't cry, this isn't your fault, okay? He's a dickbag, it's not us. It was good for you to dump him so quickly.”

“I just- h-he was so sweet-” Jon broke off into tears again, sitting on the edge of the fountain in the school courtyard. “I didn't think he'd ever d-do something like this! Why would someone cheat like that?” Matt rubbed his back, just as bummed out at the situation.

Suddenly Matt blinked, sitting up straighter. “I have an idea. We can get him back so hard for this- you said he was telling his friends he had a threesome with us, right? And that we did things with him individually?”

“But we didn't! You're ace and I just- I didn't!” Jon said, struggling not to cry harder.

“But that's not what everyone else thinks. They all believe we did the nasty.” Matt grinned. “And that means we can say anything we want about him in the sack, and they'll believe it. We could say he played the season three intro of The Kittens on repeat to set the mood. We'll tell people we wanted us to bleat like goats while he fucked us or he'd start crying.”

“He wanted us to call him Saruman or he couldn't get it up at all.” Jon added.

“Lord of the Rings and dastardly revenge?” Matt pretended to swoon. “Maybe we should just date each other!” He teased, nudging Jon's shoulder with his own.

“Oh, gosh, I-I don't think I'm ready to date again any time soon.” Jon wiped his eyes. He'd finished crying for now, but his voice still wavered slightly. “But um...if you want to, we could hang out. I have a pool at my house, and we could swim or something.”

“I'm not a very good swimmer,” Matt admitted, smiling apologetically. “But I'd be happy to hang out with you no matter where we go.”

Jon smiled. “Me too. You're fun to be around, Matt.” He leaned back, reaching up to fold his arms behind his head, and tumbled back into the fountain. He yelped in shock at the cold water and propped himself up on his elbows in the shallow water while he struggled to get up. He blinked, watching as Matt doubled over in laughter, and his cheeks and the tips of his ears burned red in shame.

“You- you've really got your heart set on swimming, don't you.” Matt said between laughs. He got up and reached a hand out to Jon to help him to his feet.

Jon cracked a smile that grew quickly into breathless laughter and took Matt's hand. When he was ready to date again, if ever, he very much hoped Matt would be free.

Chapter Text

Eduardo clutched his gun close, the green tint of his face mask blending in the foliage surrounding him. If he could just get up the hill without getting shot, things might just turn out okay for himself and his squad.

He dropped to his belly and started to carefully make his way up the hill, crawling as quickly as he could with his armor on. One of his favorite tactics was aiming for the legs, which would make his victim would cry out for help. Then their rescuers would become more victims. It was a perfect plan for kicking up his hit count, as well as establishing his rightful dominance over the field. He settled to a stop in the bushes and looked for his target.

There was nothing Eduardo could do better than paintball. Fingers like lightning on the feather-sensitive trigger of his semi-automatic gun made him a fierce opponent on any course.

“We could always play for the fun of the game,” Jon had once told him. Eduardo nearly booted him off the team for that. People like that made Eduardo sick.

But no one, even casual gamers, pissed Eduardo off more than their current rivals, Matt, Tom, Tord, and Edd. He couldn't care less about the first three, but Edd just infuriated him.

They were new to this course, and this should have been an easy victory for Eduardo and his friends in a game of capture the hill, but Edd and Matt were fantastic defenders against Eduardo and Mark's offense. The others were down one offensive player since Tord had been booted out of the place altogether for having a real gun on him (Jon was their prime defender, along with Todd, and it made Eduardo a little nervous that he might have gotten shot for real), but Mark should be able to hit Tom without a problem.

So why were they still losing?!

“See anything?” A voice was quiet next to him and he sighed, closing his eyes.

“Not yet.” He answered. “But I'll catch one of them, and this will all be over. I'm numero uno, and these chumps aren't going to make a fool out of me.”

“Mhm. If you're numero uno, who's numero two?”

“Shouldn't you be helping instead of talking?” Eduardo huffed and turned to his friend, out of patience. Since when were his teammates so chatty? “I really don't need you distracting-”

Smiling back at him without a care in the world, was none other than Edd. Dear fucking god. Eduardo closed his mouth, and then opened it again to say something, only to choke a little and close his mouth again.

“You're pretty cute, you know that?” Edd asked suddenly, his voice a little quieter. He leaned closer and Eduardo felt his heart rate quicken. “Especially when you're all competitive like this.”

Eduardo was still at a loss for words, eyes wide and frozen on Edd's. “Wha-”

He saw it before he felt it. The co2 from Edd's gun fogged up the front of both of their masks, blurring Edd's face on one side. When he felt it, he felt it. The paintball that hit him burst upon impact with his skin, splattering bright green paint across his neck and chin, guaranteeing a dark bruise to be there by nightfall.

Then everything sped back up into real time.

Eduardo slammed his hand to his neck with a pained cry, his eyes growing damp on reflex. “You bastard!” He yelled, jerking back onto his knees. A series of purple paintballs spattered across his chest, but he didn't care, he just threw himself at Edd, tackling his laughing opponent out of the bushes and down the hill. He lost his mask somewhere along the way, cursing and shouting the whole time, but he fell silent save for angry, labored wheezing when they reached the bottom of the hill and Edd's weight on top of him knocked the air from his lungs.

Before he could catch a proper breath, a pair of cool, soft hands pressed against his cheeks, directing his gaze up to meet Edd's, no longer shielded by his own visor.

“I mean it- you really are cute.”

Eduardo’s eyes fluttered and his cheeks grew hot as Edd leaned closer, out of embarrassment or anticipation he didn't know. Their lips brushed against each other, softer than Eduardo wanted. He reached up to pull Edd down, only to gasp in shock when Edd was suddenly struck in the side of the face with a paintball, sending a delicate spray of very dark purple paint directly onto Eduardo’s waiting lips.

Mark.

Edd tumbled off of Eduardo, probably a little dazed from being hit in the face with a paintball, before grabbing his goggles and scrambling to his feet. He ran a serpentine up the hill back to his base, but no one shot at him.

Mark helped Eduardo to his feet, patting his back gently. “Todd's getting the car, let's get out of here.” He said through his impossibly thick accent, and Eduardo finally noticed Jon at his side, and the fluorescent blue and purple paint that covered them both. “We'll get them next time.”

“Yeah.” Eduardo said, wiping his neck. “Next time for sure.” He rubbed the paint between his fingers as Jon retrieved his gun and goggles for him. Next time indeed.

Chapter Text

"I don't care what anyone has to say! I'm just too good to be thrown away!" Ah, Edd must be in the shower again. Tord grinned. He liked when Edd sang in the shower, it was like a whole new side to him that only he got to hear. Slipping his hands into his pockets, the boy headed down the hall to lean against the bathroom door and listen. On the off chance that Tom and Matt came home early from the arcade, he could always play it off like he was waiting for a turn of his own. Not that he was particularly shy about his adoration of Edd.

"Don't get in my way or I'll SHIT- AUGH!" There was a loud squeak, like something slipping, and the cacophonous noise of bottles of hair products and body wash hitting the floor. Tord winced. Sounds like Edd took a real fall.

"Edd?" He called, knocking once on the door. "You okay?" 

"Shit- ow! Ow, ow, damn it!" 

Tord raised an eyebrow. "Edd?" 

There was another small crash, this one of the shower curtain falling, and a muffled, "Oh god, it's in my eyes-" 

Concern overwhelmed him and Tord turned, opening the door. "Edd, I'm coming in," he warned, despite already stepping into the bathroom. He was not prepared for the sight that awaited him. 

The first thing he saw was Edd's ass. He must have slipped over the edge the second time he fell, and gotten tangled in the shower curtain. He chuckled, shaking his head. "Edd, you really need to-" he cut off with a choked sort of noise. 

Next, he saw the red. 

Mixed into the water in the slow-draining tub, splattered up the wall, and running down Edd's bare backside, there was dark red everywhere. It pooled in the mess of shower curtains and dripped onto the floor, forming a quickly growing puddle. 

"HOLY FUCK!" Tord cried, jerking away from the gruesome scene. He dropped to his knees, pulling the shower curtain off his friend. "Oh god, Edd! C-can you hear me, a-are you okay? Oh Jesus, oh fuck- I-I'll call an ambulance!" He took Edd's cheeks in his hands and pushed his hair back, looking for a wound. He knew that even small head wounds would bleed all over the place, but he was too frightened to think logically at the moment.

Edd's face turned pink, his eyes scrunched shut. "What?" He put his hands on Tord's wrists and tried to use him as a brace so he could get up. "No, no, everything's fine, don't-" 

"Everything is not fine!" Tord yelled, his voice shrill. "S-stay down, Edd, y-you must be in- in shock maybe? Oh, fuck, I don't want to leave you but my phone is dead- where's yours? Try to stay calm okay?" 

While Tord rambled, Edd managed to grab his friend's hoodie, using it to wipe his eyes. "Damn, that burns..." He looked up again, blinking blearily. "Tord? Tord! Shut up a moment!" 

"-will Matt and Tom-" Tord stopped mid-sentence, eyes wide. "Y-yeah, Edd?" 

"Tord, it's hair dye." Edd said patiently. "I'm dying my hair. I slipped."

Tord's mouth flapped open and closed for a moment, something like a big fish, before shaking out of his stupor. "Y-you- you're okay?" He asked, his voice shaking. 

"Yes, I'm okay, everything is okay. Well, except that I've made a big mess and scared you so bad." At least he had the decency to look sheepish. "What about you? Are you okay?" 

"I..." Tord fell silent for a moment, chin trembling, before heaving Edd against his chest with a sob. "I thought it was blood! I-I thought you'd fallen and hurt yourself, a-and I didn't know what to do! You could have died, a-and I was just freaking out!" 

Edd was honestly shocked that Tord had been so affected. Still, he shifted up onto his knees for a better hugging position and wrapped an arm around his friend. "H-hey, it's okay... Handling a crisis is hard. I understand." 

Tord didn't reply, sobbing against Edd's damp shoulder. It was almost ten minutes before he pulled away, sniffling and wiping his face of the dye that'd smeared on his chin and cheeks. "I-I'm sorry." He said breathlessly, pulling a towel down from the rack to wipe his eyes. "I'm glad you're okay."

"I'm glad I've got a friend who cares so much." Edd smiled, patting Tord's shoulder. He blinked when he saw the towel, and the suddenly remembered that he was bare ass naked. "Woah now!" He took the towel and covered himself, his face turning as red as his hair. "Th-that's enough mushy stuff until I'm dressed!" 

Tord turned a similar shade and quickly covered his eyes. "Oh, shit! Sorry! Sorry, I'll go!" He got up, one hand out to help him feel his way to the door. "Please be careful," he advised, getting a grasp on the door. "I'm the living room if you need me!" 

"Yeah, I got it, now get out!" Edd cried, only growing more flustered as Tord left. Shoot...now he had a mess to clean up. He hoped they had enough bleach to take care of all the dye stains. 

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Ten Minutes Ago

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“Cause baby I'm a ro-ock star! A ro-ock star!” Edd sang loudly, eyes shut tight as he leaned over the side of the tub, rinsing the bleach from his hair. He went ahead and washed it with shampoo when he finished, but he knew better than to use any conditioner. Not for what he had planned next. 

"And I'm ready to blow the crowd away!" He sang, paying no mind to how his voice cracked on the higher notes. He was really more of an alto; anything too high just sounded terrible. He sputtered and gagged a little when he suddenly got shampoo in his mouth, leaning closer to the faucet to rinse his mouth out with water. Bluh. 

He turned off the water and shook out his hair before wrapping it up in a towel. "I can't believe I just ate shampoo..." he muttered, rising to his feet and pouting at himself in the mirror. Suddenly he broke into a toothy grin. "Man, I should star in soap operas!" He burst into laughter, wishing someone else was home to appreciate his genius. 

Wiping crocodile tears from his eyes, Edd grinned at his reflection and took the towel off his head. His hair was now a very, very pale blonde. He had to dry it completely before applying any dye though. He couldn't wait to show it off when he was done! He could already picture his friends' faces when they saw him! 

Tom would be in shock, Tord would demand photos, and Matt- well, Matt would probably take it as a compliment that he'd dyed his hair red. If he even remembered what color hair Edd had naturally. 

"You better get ready for me!" He started singing again as his song looped, and pretended his hairdryer was the wind in the music video. "Because I'm coming in fast and I'm coming in hot! If you wanna be in, babe, you're with me, or you're not!" 

Hoo boy, his friends were going to get the surprise of their lives!

Chapter Text

The autumn leaves fell with quiet grace, coloring the ground in beautiful hues of gold and red and brown. Matt smiled, picking up one that had landed on his textbook, and twirled it between his fingers until it broke into smaller pieces, scattering across his paper.

“Uh, Matt?” A voice rang in his ears, and Matt thought about the words for a moment. An address, kind of confused sounding? Oh, it was talking to him! He was Matt.

“I'm Matt.” He said, looking up. He was surprised to see his friends all looking at him. He blinked, and realized that the voice had belonged to Tom, who was now twirling a pencil in his fingers.

“Matt?” Edd prompted, frowning lightly. “What were you saying?”

Matt blinked, and suddenly everything rushed back into real time. “I- I don't know. Um...” He looked down at his notebook, looking over the page. "Something about Mary Shelley?" 

"You literally stopped mid-sentence, Matt. How did you get so distracted over a leaf?" Tord asked, irritation evident in his voice. "This is like the fifth time this week you've randomly lost your train of thought." 

"Yeah, you really got derailed from the topic!" Edd grinned, and Tord buried his face in his hands. 

"No, seriously." Tom nudged Edd with his elbow, shutting him up for the moment. "This hasn't happened that much, has it Tord?" 

"Yeah. Like the other day, at the coffee shop, he forgot what he was getting like in the middle of his order." Tord huffed, crossing his arms. "It's really starting to get obnoxious." 

Matt laughed, closing his school book and packing up his things. "Derailed- you're too funny, Edd! Come on, let's go back to the dorms. We've been working too hard, and we're all going a little stir-crazy." 

The three still seated exchanged a look, before Edd smiled and got up. "Maybe you're right. We could all use a break. This isn't anything we can't get done in class anyway, or before." 

"Let's race! Last one home's a rotten egg!" Tord yelled, jumping up. He seemed to love making things into competitions. He took off down the sidewalk, leaving his backpack on the picnic table for Edd to carry for him. 

"Looking at you, Tim!" Matt called, dropping his bag and taking off after Tord. 

Tom frowned, watching the redhead's retreating figure. "It's Tom."

-------------------- 

"-and there was that time at the mall, when he literally got lost for half an hour because he forgot the exit was downstairs. And then after that, he went to the wrong dorm- twice! And sometimes when he talks it will just turn into babbling like in the middle of a word, like that one time when he-" 

"Tom!" Edd turned around, holding up his hands. "Tom. Relax. Matt's a little forgetful, I get it. Have you considered you might be over thinking this?" 

"He doesn't even get my name right!" Tom cried. 

"Everyone forgets everyone's names sometimes! You called me mom yesterday!" 

Tom tore his fingers through his hair. "That's not the point!" He said angrily. He took a deep breath and held it for a moment before slowly letting it out. "Edd, please, just...just listen. I really think something's wrong with him. And not- not in the asshole way, like I used to say in primary school. I genuinely think he needs help. Maybe he's got like a disorder or something, I don't know, but it scares me. Doesn't it scare you too? 

"Does it ever occur to you that- that he might get lost one day, that he might fall for someone's lies and get seriously hurt?" Tom blinked back tears, eyes beginning to burn. "I'm scared for him, Edd. I really am. I...I think he needs to go to a doctor." 

Edd reached out and put a hand on his roommate's shoulder. "Listen to me this time. Graduation is in two weeks, and everyone's a little jacked up. I caught Tord speaking Russian to the blinds yesterday. Just...let us get through finals, and we'll talk to Matt together, okay?" 

Tom nodded mutely, overwhelming concern for his neighbor across the hall threatening to suffocate him. 

-------------------- 

"It's just incredibly...curious." Patryk twirled his hair around his finger, looking over Matt's medical papers and his physical evaluation. "The thing is, there's not one, or even two tests for this. There's many different tests because there's many different types, and it's hard to find the exact one type since the symptoms and brain changes can overlap."

Patryk Dudwics was Tord's friend who had been a year above them in high school. He'd been in medical school for the past five years, so they'd gone to him first for help. After all, they were broke ass college graduates who lived together to afford rent. They weren't rich people who could just go to a doctor whenever.

"You should think about seeing a neurologist. You know, one with a license?"

"Pat! Oh my god! We're poor as fuck, man, just give us the diagnosis so we can help our friend!" Tord snapped. 

"Okay, okay! Just...don't take my word as gospel. This is botched at best and a shot in the dark at worst." Patryk sighed, sitting on the couch in his basement. "I can say with very high certainty that your pal has dementia. Early, early dementia. What kind for certain, I can't tell. But he meets several of the criteria for any at all. A professional would have to tell you for sure." 

A thick silence settled in the room.

"Is there any way we can help him?" Edd asked softly. 

"Not as much as we'd all like." Patryk said, shaking his head. He pretended to clean his glasses so he wouldn't have to see the three miserable faces before him. "It seems to be progressing really fast, so it's likely that there is no cure and no treatment.

"I mean, there are meds that could help improve his symptoms- temporarily, unfortunately. Usually the same kind used to treat Alzheimer's. But he eats well, he works out, and he's got a clean medical history. There's no explanation other than simple degenerative brain cells that could be causing this. And sadly, that also means there might not be any definite cure." 

Tom, who had been sitting in silence the entire time they were here, took a deep breath. "We'll do what we can. Even if I have to pay for his meds my damn self." 

-------------------- 

Matt munched his way through a bag of ginger snap cookies, humming quietly as he walked down the sidewalk. It was a lovely day, and he was going on a quick donut run while his friends fixed their television. He had a list: chocolate for Edd, cream filling for Tord, and nuts for Tom. He would not forget.

It'd almost been two years now, and he knew his condition wasn't improving. It wasn't as though he wasn't trying, it was just that things would get lost in his head. Whether it was ten minutes ago or ten seconds, he just couldn't seem to focus enough to hold onto information or ideas for long. He even took to carrying a mirror around with him. Just in case.

"Tord, I don't think this is a good idea." Tom said. 

"Oh, shut up!" Tord huffed, elbowing his friend in the ribs. "He's not going to get better if we don't push him!" 

"That's not how it works, Tord." Edd frowned. "I know you want to help, but I don't think this is the way to do it." 

"What? Are you just going to let Tom baby him his whole life?" Tord asked, crossing his arms. "We can help him build up a better memory, and better concentration. I've devised a careful series of trials to help him push his limits without hurting himself. We'll have our Matt back in no time." 

"He's still our Matt!" Tom shoved Tord, watching him lose his balance on his hunched position behind a bush, where they'd been hiding from Matt as they followed him. "He's not one of your stupid little experiments, Tord! Being worried about someone you care about is not baby-ing them!" 

"It is if you're not trying to help him get better!" Tord kicked his heel into Tom's chest and sent him sprawling on the ground. He kicked him again from there, too frustrated to actually get up and beat him up. The only reason he didn't land more than three hits was because Edd had grabbed him by the back of his hoodie and dragged him away. 

"Both of you, stop it!" Edd yelled, now standing over his friends. "Tord, Matt isn't someone you can experiment on- even if you're trying to help. Tom, you can't help him if you don't give him chances to grow and learn." 

Both men looked away, unhappy to be told they were wrong, but they muttered apologies to each other nonetheless. 

"Now that that's settled- where did Matt go?" 

Tom shot up, eyes wide. "You lost him?!" 

"Oh, for hell's sake..." Tord groaned. "He'll be fine! We gave him a list, and the store is only a few blocks away. Let's go home and wait for him like good, trusting friends." 

Tom scowled. "You're just taking Edd's side to make me look like an asshole. Your manipulative bullshit won't work on me, dick. I swear I'd fuckin-" 

"Tom!" Edd stepped between them. "That is enough! We're going home, and that's final!" 

-------------------- 

"It's been too long." 

Tord groaned, half asleep sprawled across the couch and Edd. "Maybe he got distracted. He'll be fine." 

"Tom, it's only been an hour and a half." Edd added, toying with Tord's hair. "It's not even dark yet." 

"That clock is slow, it's been an hour and forty-five minutes!" Tom turned away from the window, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "It's going to get dark soon, and I'm not going to leave him out there alone! He has enough trouble navigating in the day!" 

Edd sighed. "Go ahead and find him, then. I'm going to bed." He found Tord snoring in his lap and let his head fall back. "Well, I'm going to sleep, anyway."

But Tom had already gone. 

"Matt! Matt, come on!" Tom yelled, running down the sidewalk. 

-------------------- 

When Tom finally found his friend, he was an entire neighborhood away with a cake in his hands. Said he must have taken a wrong turn and gotten lost. He cried a little. Tom forgave him immediately.

"I got you this." Tom said quietly, the setting sun throwing shadows across Matt's bedroom. "Don't take it as an insult, okay? I just...I was worried." He slipped a silver bracelet from his pocket and looped it around Matt's wrist. "It has our address on it. A-and even if you can't find your way back, you can always put it into your phone and use the mapping thing." 

Matt looked at the cold silver, turning his arm and looking at it from every angle. "Thank you, Tom. I'm sorry, I know I must be...irritating." 

"Never. I'm always here for you, to talk about anything you need. I will never find you annoying or, or get sick of your company. I swear it." 

-------------------- 

"Hi, Matt. Just...thought I'd come by for a visit." Tom scuffed his shoe against the white linoleum, hating the smell of medication and sanitizer that lingered in the air. 

Shortly after Matt's thirty-sixth birthday, they had to move him into a care facility. He was wandering out all the time and getting lost, or freaking out because he didn't know who the three strangers in his house were. One day, he asked who the redhead was in the picture on their wall, and all of them knew that it was time. 

Tord had put his career in robotics and nuclear physics on hold to help take care of Matt. Edd had turned down a huge television offer because it was too far from home, and he worried. Tom had become a police officer in town, but even then, he felt like he was working too much and spent too much time away from home. After they helped Matt settle into the care facility, they went their separate ways.

"I brought you a smoothie. I- I know you don't like ice cream." Tom heaved a sigh. "I'm sorry I can't stay for long, I'm on duty today." 

"Oh, that's no problem, officer!" Matt smiled, accepting the smoothie. "It was nice of you to come visit a total stranger. I don't think I ever get visitors."

"Then I'll have to come by tomorrow too." Tom said. "And, please, call me Tom." 

Matt looked startled. "Why are you crying, Todd?"

Tom wiped his eyes, taking a shaky breath. "I just...got dust in my eyes. Allergies or something. Don't worry about me, you just worry about you." 

"I do worry about me." Matt said, putting a hand on Tom's. "I worry quite a lot. Like how sometimes I think there's no one who worries about me. There's no one who cares. No one knows me here. I'm just...another patient." 

Tom turned his hand over and took Matt's, unable to help the tears that kept falling. "I worry about you. In fact, I care an awful lot." 

He didn't tell him that they'd had this conversation before. 

Chapter Text

“Baaabe!” A series of heavy knocks sounded on his door. “I know you’re awake! Come on, come on! My arm is going to get tired!”

Tom groaned, pressing his face into his pillow. Matt was...thoughtful. He was kind, and, okay, super good looking. And, out of the three of them, he probably deserved to be safe and happy the most. He didn’t know how getting up at the ass-crack of dawn could make anyone smile, ever, but for Matt, he’d try. So he rolled over and sat up, yawning softly into his palm. “Come in,” he called back, reaching for his phone and checking the time- oh, god, it was almost eight! Who in their right mind got up before noon if they could help it? “What are you doing here so early?” He asked, rubbing his eyes as he heard his bedroom door swing open. Matt was going to break it one day, and Tom was going to make him fix it by himself when he did. “Not that I’m not-” another yawn- “happy to see you, of course....”

“I’m here because you were up late silly! And getting up early is good for you!”

“I was up late because you asked me to stay up on the phone with you/” Tom mumbled, his bleary vision slowly clearing as Matt settled a tray over his lap.

“I know, and I wanted to make it up to you. I know I can be a handful. Or two.” Matt sighed, settling on the foot of the bed. “I thought I could make it up to you by making you breakfast! I even got you some flowers too- the right ones I hope. Will you...speak it for me?”

Tom paused, about to close his lips around the first bite of pancakes. They were right at that stage where the syrup makes them nice and soft, but not quite enough to be considered gross and soggy, and he really didn’t want to miss out on perfect pancakes. “Speak it?” He asked, offering the bite to Matt instead.

“Y-you know.” Matt puffed out his cheeks, the blush blooming across his face making his freckles seem darker. He leaned forward and accepted the bite, and proceeded to answer Tom’s question without pausing to swallow. “The flower language. Will you speak it for me?”

Tom quickly shoved a piece of crispy bacon into his mouth, keeping his hand up to hide his smile. (He had a feeling Matt knew he was pleased anyway- he was good at the whole...emotions thing.) He nodded, washing down his bacon with a swig of orange juice, and set the glass down again.

“Okay, let me see...” He hummed and picked up the vase, carefully inspecting everything before him. There were all kinds of flowers in the one vase, and though a professional would have separated them into sections, Tom knew Matt was doing his best. The thoughtfulness was there- the message coming from the heart. That was all that mattered. A cornflower base to symbolize devotion- a good start. And purple hyacinths to express sorrow. Either Matt just liked the color and added more, or he was really, really sorry about keeping Tom up so late last night on the phone. Holly- for domestic happiness. “You feel...at home with me?” He looked up, unsure for a moment, and Matt’s blush as he looked away confirmed his question. He smiled and looked down again. Larkspur, too, blues and purples, to make Tom pause again. “You think I’m fickle...? But you also have daisies, for a loyal love. Am I missing something?” He asked. Emotions he was never very good at. Flowers, though- now flowers, he understood.

“What?” Matt looked alarmed. “No! Is that what it said?”

“That’s what larkspur is, babe. Fickleness.”

“These ones?” Matt pointed at one of the tall stalks of larkspur with a frown. “No, no, that’s supposed to mean sweetness! And like- that you- you’ve made my life more...complete.” He sort of mumbled the last part, his face turning red, and Tom couldn’t keep down his grin.

“That’s Valley, Matt. Lily of the valley means sweetness.”

“And the other part?”

“Yes, that part too.”

“That’s what I meant.” Matt sighed, a little frustrated, but still didn’t look up. “Y-you can go on.”

Tom looked back down at the arrangement, carefully looking over each flower, taking in every meaning. Each one he deciphered seemed more affectionate than the last. “Are these...orange blossoms?” He asked slowly, picking up a small bundle of tiny white blossoms. “Matt, these are- and spider flowers?” He looked up, his cheeks and ears beginning to head up. “Matt- these are- M-Matt!”

The redhead held up a hand, asking for a moment of quiet, and slowly slid to the floor, where he knelt down. He slipped a little velvet box from his pocket and held it up. “Tom...will you marry me?”

Tom swallowed the rising lump in his throat, looking back to the orange blossoms in his fingers. Slowly, he reached out and slipped them into Matt’s hair. “Eternal love.” He said quietly, almost to himself.

Matt bit his lip. “Is that...does that mean yes?”

Tom laughed, a full, happy laugh, from deep in his chest. “Yes! Yes, oh my god, Matt- yes! I will!” He set the flowers aside and carefully maneuvered out from under the breakfast tray so he could kneel by Matt and wrap his arms around him. “I can’t believe you- that was so-” he laughed again, pressing his face into Matt’s shoulder.

“The flowers said the right things then?” Matt prompted, returning the embrace with a bright smile of his own.

“Ugh, you’re so embarrassing!” Tom teased, pressing a kiss to Matt’s cheek. “Yes, they did. You did! I- You’re amazing. You’re so wonderful.” He shook his head, holding Matt- beautiful, perfect, sweet, Matt, his fiance, close. “I love you so much.” He whispered.

“I love you too, Tom.”

Chapter Text

Paul startled awake to a vice-like grip on his shoulder, and his breathing slightly impaired by a hand over his mouth. He panicked at first when he opened his eyes to darkness, forgetting for a moment that he was home with his boyfriend of four years, Patryk. Patryk! Paul turned his head as much as he could to the side, alarmed and a little relieved to find that the taller man was the one holding him still. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he realized Patryk wasn't even looking at him, but rather the wall to Paul's left, several feet away. His eyes were wide and hair a mess, but his breathing was slow and steady, as though he were in a trance. Patryk moved his hand from Paul's mouth and pointed at the wall.

“Do you see it?” He whispered. “The barbed wire.”

Paul looked to the wall, blinking again. “What? No, Patryk, there's nothing there.” He looked up at his boyfriend with a puzzled frown, and reached up to take his hand. “You're still dreaming, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.”

Patryk was still for a moment, allowing Paul to hold his hand, before he slowly laid back down, let go of Paul's shoulder, and closed his eyes.

It wasn't until the next morning, when Patryk swore he had no memory of waking up at all last night, that Paul realised Patryk must have been talking in his sleep. He dubbed it a result of all the coffee in Patryk's diet and promptly forgot about it.

It was only a few nights later when Patryk spoke up again while asleep. This time, Paul woke up to Patryk rocking back and forth on the bed, holding his hands down over Paul’s eyes. The pressure made lights sparkle behind his eyelids, and he could feel the headache beginning to set in only moments after waking up. “Patryk, what’s going on?” He asked, putting his hands on the other’s wrists and trying to pull his hands up, which only made Patryk press down harder.

“That way the eyes can’t see you.” He said, sounding a little angry as he tried to shake off Paul’s hands. “The eyes! They’re watching you.”

“I’ll cover my eyes, okay?” Paul said gently, clenching his jaw against the pain. “Don’t worry about me, don’t worry about the eyes. I can take care of it.” He promised. This seemed to help, and slowly, Patryk let up on his hold on Paul, before slumping back down into a still slumber. Paul got up for a few painkillers before returning to bed. Just in case Patryk did wake up again, he tied a bandana around his eyes as a makeshift sleeping mask. He didn’t want to risk it.

Paul had expected there to be another incident the next night, but, thankfully, both he and his boyfriend slept soundly through the night. It wasn’t until a full week later that Patryk began to act up again.

He’d stayed up late that night, Paul, working on a review of a restaurant downtown. When he finally went to bed, the digital clock on their nightstand reading 1:07am, he quickly drifted off into the land of dreams. At least, for a few moments, before Patryk suddenly shouted a loud, unprompted, “FUCK OFF!” At nothing.

“Excuse me?!” Paul barked, sitting up and glaring at his boyfriend. “What did you just say to me?” They never swore at each other, despite how easily the words came to either of them in their day to day lives. He was so shocked, he’d nearly forgotten about Patryk’s...problem.

Then Patryk shook his head, calm again, and looked directly behind Paul’s shoulder. “Not you, him.”

Paul felt his blood run cold, his chest tight with fear. Oh god, their house was haunted. Their house was haunted and his boyfriend was possessed and he was going to die maybe, and- He broke out of his thoughts as Patryk gently kissed his cheek, patted his hand, and laid back down.

It was, again, like nothing had happened. The next morning, when Paul confronted him about it, Patryk promised he had no idea what he was talking about. As far as he knew, he’d slept quietly through the night without even a whisp of a dream. He promised to stop reading scary stories so often though, and to stick to Disney movies, like he thought it would help. Paul accepted the compromise, and they went on with their lives.

The very next night, Patryk got physical again. Paul was jostled out of sleep with a rough movement, as Patryk clawed at his clothing and forcibly yanked him to his side of the bed, holding him close and not giving him an inch of wiggle room. “Patryk! Wake up!” He yelled, kicking his feet in frustration and, admittedly, fear. “What’s wrong?!”

He quieted down when he heard Patryk sobbing, and tried to calm the frantic beating of his own heart as he let his eyes adjust to the dark. “Patryk?” He tried again, letting his body go limp to let him know he wasn’t fighting him. “Pat, what’s the matter? I’m right here.”

Patryk stared at him, his face twisted with anguish so deep Paul couldn’t begin to fathom it, but it still somehow felt as though...Patryk wasn’t...really seeing him. He was in a trance again. Eventually, he slumped forward over the other and drifted back into sleep, giving Paul the leeway he needed to move them both back into a comfortable sleeping position. He put a pillow between them, just in case.

The next day, at breakfast, Paul tried to talk to Patryk again. “You were crying, but not really, i-it was more like you were- like you were acting. O-or like, sobbing, but without any actual tears coming. I-I don’t know how to put it.”

Patryk looked at him with such a look of sorrow that Paul felt his lungs constrict. “I thought you were drowning.” He said quietly. “I...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just- I was so scared.”

Paul forgave him immediately, kissed him on the lips, and headed to work.

The next night, Paul awoke breathless and wheezing, unable to get any air. He was on the floor, and a figure jumped over him and hit the wall, making him flinch so violently he hit his head on the bedside table. It was Patryk, and he was now on his knees beside Paul, trying to force him under the bed. “THEY’RE COMING THROUGH THE WALLS!” He screamed, and Paul vaguely wondered if the neighbors would call the police.

The next morning, again, Patryk had no recollection, or explanation, as to what happened.

That night, Paul put up his laptop to take a video.

He woke up in terrible pain, aware that he was already groaning in discomfort when he drifted into consciousness. The drifting became a jerking, and pain shot up his arm and through his fingers like quicksilver, making him cry out loudly and jerk upright. Patryk had his wrist in one hand, and his hand in the other, staring at his hands but seeing nothing as he bent Paul’s hand back as far as he could. He’s going to break my wrist- Paul thought, the realization just a flash in his mind before he fought back, grabbing Patryk’s hand and turning, twisting his hand and pulling the other’s hand off. “Let go of me!” He yelled, hoping he could wake up his hysterical partner. He jerked away and turned, throwing his legs off the bed to get up. Patryk practically tackled him from behind, throwing an arm around his neck and pulling him into a tight headlock. He slipped his arm under Paul’s and locked his shoulder into place, rendering his arm useless for a moment. Before he could react, or even blink, Patryk corkscrewed his shoulders and took him down, smashing his face and free shoulder into the ground. He pressed his knee to his spine and forced his arm up against his back, leaving him totally immobile. He took a sharp breath and held it, bracing himself, and rocked to the side, throwing Patryk off him. He swung his elbow down into Patryk’s ribs and then rolled away, jumping to his feet and breaking for the door. He slipped on the rug in the hallway in his frantic escape, but quickly recovered and shot down the hall. He caught the doorway of the bathroom with one hand and swung himself into the room, slammed the door behind him, and locked it.

With heavy breathing, he slumped back against the door, and slid down to the floor, where he let his muscles go limp. The adrenaline in his system quickly ran out and he was left exhausted and in pain, his arm and opposite wrist aching terribly, and his neck was stiff from hitting the ground. He passed out where he was.

“Paul!” Patryk’s voice was fuzzy, reaching through the dull throbbing in Paul’s head to rouse him from sleep. “Paul, please, talk to me!” There was a knock on the door, and Paul scrambled to his feet in alarm. He was in the bathroom still, and Patryk was on the outside, knocking and calling for him.

“Patryk?” He called back, his heart aching as his voice cracked.

“Oh, thank god, Paul, please come out! I- w-we need to talk about this!”

“Talk about what?” Paul swallowed thickly, taking a cautious step towards the door.

“About...about me.” Patryk said, after a moment. “About the video on your laptop.”

-

“I know you would never hurt me on purpose.” Paul said quietly, as they sat in the doctor’s office, waiting for the nurse to come in and call them back for Patryk’s appointment. “I know you don’t mean to...you know. Do things.”

Patryk didn’t reply, save to give Paul’s hand a light squeeze.

A few hours later, Patryk was diagnosed with RBD, or REM sleep behavior disorder. It caused Patryk to sort of...act out his dreams- even if he didn’t remember them the next morning. It explained why Patryk would get so sleepy in the daytime (something-pathic hypersomnia, the doctor had called it), and it gave Patryk a solid explanation to the sore throats he’d wake up with. The good news was that it could be treated successfully. Because it was Saturday, however, they had to wait until Monday to get Patryk’s prescription filled: clonazepam. It was a benzo-something-pine, which basically meant it was good for anxiety and insomnia. It had a ninety percent success rate, and people don’t usually develop a tolerance for it, even years later. Paul and Patryk both had an optimistic outlook for their future.

That night, they both stayed up late to watch a movie. Patryk fell asleep halfway through. Nearing the end of the credits, Paul tensed up when a hand gripped the back of his neck, squeezing uncomfortably tight. “I knew you’d come back.” Patryk cooed, almost lovingly, into Paul’s ear. “You always come back.” He got up and left, sleeping alone in their bedroom with a chair in front of the door. If Patryk took it personally, he didn’t say anything, and the next night, he volunteered to sleep on the couch again.

When Monday finally came, the two went to the pharmacy together for Patryk’s prescription, and were both equal parts nervous and excited about the upcoming night. It was eight at night when Patryk took his first dose, five mg.

As a show of faith, despite Patryk’s pleas against the idea, Paul slept in the same bed as his boyfriend again.

And they both slept soundly, for the first night in many to come.

Chapter Text

Edd blinked his eyes open in a daze, everything blurry for a moment before slipping into focus so sharp his head hurt. He wore contacts, but still he'd never had vision this clear; he'd always seen things a little fuzzy, especially when they got further away.

Then, suddenly, he realized things were even more different. When he looked at the wall of screens and buttons and switches adjacent to the raised bed he was strapped to, he saw...things. It took a moment, before he realized that there were colors there he'd never seen before. Red and green were suddenly very different, though he wasn't quite sure which was which, when he was used to them both being ugly shades of yellow and brown. And there was a bold, bright color that he couldn't identify alone., Wherever he was, he was going to leave differently.

If he was going to leave at all.

The door slid open and a man walked in, long hair messy from sleepless nights of work. He was all cheekbones and dark eye bags, and the smile on his face could only be seen as malicious.

The Evil Director.

The tall man walked around Edd's bed, stopping behind him and out of sight.

“Edd?” He spoke quietly, and the brunet shuddered. “Are you awake?”

No. Nope. Definitely not, go away now please. But instead, Edd's need for answers called him to speak up.

“Yes, I am... Where am I?” His voice was scratchy, and lower than he remembered. He wondered what the director had done to him, but was afraid to ask.

The director, a surprised look on his face, quickly walked around the bed so he was standing before Edd. “Come again?”

“You...asked if I'm awake?” Edd coughed suddenly, a deep, hoarse sound from his chest. His fingers twitched, but for what, he knew not. “Where am I, director? I thought we were cool?”

The man stared at him wide eyed. “Evil director,” he corrected softly, before suddenly turning away and putting his hand up to his ear, no doubt speaking to someone unseen. “Larry, get up here! The experiment was a success! The door code is seven-eight-nine, now get moving! And don't say anything to the subject about it, you'll compromise the results.”

Edd was now, in addition to confused, terrified. The director had done something to him. Something terrible, in addition to curing his colorblindness, and his inability to see very well. He didn't know what, but he knew it couldn't be good.

“Hey! I asked you a question! What have you done to me?!” He yelled, squirming against the straps holding him down.

The director turned back to him, his smile now a wide, toothy grin, and Edd understood why he insisted on adding evil into his title. “I want you to figure it out for yourself, Edd.” He said darkly. “It'll be much more entertaining.”

The door slid open again, and this time a man in a suit walked in, an eyepatch over one eye and a frown on his lips. He was shorter than the director, and always seemed to be bossed around, but Edd had to wonder just how smart he really was.

He looked as startled to see Edd as the director had been.

“What have you done?” He asked slowly, never taking his gaze off of Edd. “You know who that is, don't you?” He dared to step forward, walking around him and keeping a fair distance.

“Of course I do! Why do you think I strapped him down so much?” The director clapped Larry on the back none too gently, a wide grin on his face.

“I'm sorry, I'm confused.” Edd interrupted their back-and-forth, frowning in distress. “I'm just...just Edd! You don't have to strap me down, I thought we were on okay terms!”

Larry gasped, eye wide. “You didn't.” It was obvious to Edd that he was being ignored, so he let himself slump back until he had another opening.

“I did!” The director laughed, shaking Larry by the shoulders and hopping in place, like a child on Christmas morning. “I did, can you believe it?! That's Edd in there!”

Larry pulled away, walking briskly around Edd, keeping a few feet of distance all the way around. “I... I'm going to make some tea.” He shook his head and hurried out of the room.

The director, still grinning maniacally, pulled up a chair and sat down before Edd. “So! Edd! Have you noticed anything different since you woke up?”

“Um... I'm not red-green colorblind anymore. And I can see really well, even though I usually have pretty bad vision.” Edd frowned, another harsh cough rattling his bones. “Am I getting sick? You wouldn't try to hurt me, would you?”

The director looked so offended it was almost comical. Almost. “Edd! I'm surprised at you! Diabolical, yes, but I'm not a cruel man.” He reached into his back pocket and offered out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. “Here you are, my good man.”

Edd shook his head. “I don't smoke, director. I have asthma.” Nonetheless, he felt his fingers twitch, and he felt a bit warm. He didn't smoke, why was he acting like this?

“Keep talking, Edd, how do you feel?” The director pushed, wheeling his chair forward a bit.

“Um, shaky? And sweaty. Do I have a fever or something? Even my voice sounds a bit different.” Edd wrinkled his nose in thought. What did the director do? Why was he being so secretive?

“Here, let me.” The director smiled and slipped a cigarette out of the pack. “Trust me, Edd, you're going to be fine. I have to see if my experiment worked.” And he put the filter of the cigarette up to Edd's lips, his smile widening as the brunet held it there with his lips. He lit the smoke and watched as Edd took a few puffs. He shifted it to the corner of his lips, where he held it there, not seeming to mind the smoke that rose before his face.

“I don't smoke.” Edd said again, visibly unnerved as his symptoms slowly began to fade. “I don't smoke, why- how am I able to do this? What's going on?”

The director sat back in his chair, setting the smokes on a nearby countertop. “Interesting things, my friend. Very interesting things. And once the other participant wakes up, we'll be able to finish the experiment, and then you can both go home. Don't worry.”

--------------------

“I'll kill you you piece of shit!” A familiar voice called out, angrier than he'd ever remembered it being. It drew him from sleep, and gave him a sense of anxiety so strong he thought he'd be sick. It was like the day they lost the house all over again- blood, yelling, exp- “I'll make you sorry, I swear it! I'll burn this whole place down! What did you do to me?!”

Edd's bed rattled and he panicked, even as he realized that the occupant of the bed behind him was causing it. “Hey! Hey, calm down!” He called, only to break into another bout of coughing.

“Hello? Who's there? What's going on, where are we?” The voice came again, and Edd struggled to place what was so familiar about it. He thought briefly back to grainy home movies with the guys, before shaking his head.

“We're in the director's lab. He said-”

“We're fucking where?!”

“He said he was trying to help us.” Edd frowned. “I- he said he'd let us go after making sure the experiment was a success. Are you okay? Do you feel any different?”

“I...I can't see.” The stranger said, after a moment. Their- possibly his- voice sounded almost scared. Edd felt bad for them. “My name is Paul. Everything is blurry, and there's something in my eyes. I don't know what's going on.” The voice suddenly took on a much darker tone, accompanied by the sharp snap of something leather breaking. “But I'm not sticking around to find out.”

He listened to the footsteps near, hoping he could convince his new ally to help him out of here as well, but the words died in his throat. Suddenly he understood why the voice was so familiar. He was looking at himself.

Edd gaped, eyes wide. “You- you look like me. Why do you look like me? You even sound like me, and you have vision problems what- what did he do to us?”

Paul shook his head. “Don't be absurd, no one is like me. Similar voices mean nothing.” He groped for the edge of the bed, and ran his hands down it, until something metallic clicked. He fiddled with it for a moment, before moving on to the next. Within minutes, he was pulling Edd to his feet. “Can you get us out of here?”

“In a minute. First, try putting water in your eyes.” Edd offered. He led the other over to the sink several feet away and guided him into the director's chair. “I know what I'm doing, trust me. I can help.”

He helped the strange man drop a bit of water into each eye, and waited patiently for his eyes to adjust. “Better?” He asked, after a minute or so.

“Better.” The stranger sighed, blinking and looking around. “How did you do that? I-” he fell silent, looking up at Edd in horror.

Edd grimaced, hoping against hope that he was somehow wrong. “Because I wear contacts. And you're in my body.”

Chapter Text

There was a flash of light, followed by a thump and a mumbled swear, before the room was plunged back into darkness. Tord clutched his blankets, staring into the darkness for any sign of movement, but not really expecting to see anything now that his eye's adjustment to the dark had been ruined. He flinched as the floor creaked and fabric shuffled. There was a series of metallic clicks, and the bedside lamp that Tord had been too frightened to reach for flickered on.

In his room, standing at the foot of his bed, were two men. One was tall and angry looking, with an eyepatch and a blue overcoat on. The red of a jacket underneath stood out around the ends of his sleeves, and Tord could make out the hood hanging out of the back of the collar as well. He swallowed thickly, turning his gaze to the other.

This one, identical in facial structure, was skinny and had a wide grin on his face. He wore a simple red hoodie, hands in his pockets, and faded jeans.

"Hello, Tord." The smiling one spoke.

It suddenly registered in his mind then, a shocking realization that he almost didn't believe.

"You're me!" He cried, pointing a finger at the red boy. He moved it towards the taller man, who scowled at him. "A-and so are you!"

He rubbed his eyes, part of him hoping the apparitions would disappear. The one in red plopped himself onto the bed next to him and thumped him on the back. "You got it, kiddo!" He said cheerfully, the smile on his face stretching the bandage plastered to his jaw. "We're from your future! Me, more recent. Maybe...five years? Six?" He shrugged and wrapped an arm around Tord, raising the other towards the man with the eyepatch as if showing him off. "This tall drink of water is from an even more distant future! And get this, he rules the world!"

"That's enough, Tord." The man finally spoke, gruff and angry. He crossed his arms, looking intently at the two. "I'm meeting with you both to warn you. Your future isn't as great as you're hoping."

"But you look so cool! And you took over the world! I'm planning to do that myself, you can't blame me for being excited that I'm going to succeed!" Middle-Tord grinned, hugging Tord a little tighter. "We're going to succeed!"

"You're a child, and a fool. You shouldn't rule the world, you can't handle it." The eldest sneered.

Tord wondered when he would acquire such a zest for life, and he wondered when he'd lose it again.

"Uh, excuse me guys." He said, raising a hand and waving. "I'm, uh, I have a question. How did I take over the world? And why do you think it's a bad idea? And where are our friends?" He'd have liked to see future versions of his friends too. He would eat his trench coat if Tom had facial hair. He wanted to grow it first, but the future before him was still bare around his jaw, and it was disappointing to be honest.

Middle-Tord smiled at him, an actual smile this time. "I don't know yet. I was just unpacking when Red Leader here came to get me. I moved out of the house and settled in the big city, to focus on my plans for world domination. They were fine when I left them, I'm sure they're still having adventures. I'll probably visit them one day, maybe bring them to live with me when I take over the world. They don't have to do anything, but I want them with me still."

Tord nodded in understanding. "I bet it'll work. You could give Edd all the coca-cola he wants."

"And Matt can have a whole room of just photos of himself!" Middle-Tord laughed. "Tom and I weren't on best terms when I left, but I know Matt and Edd would love for him to come! Maybe we can reconnect too."

Tord smiled. "That sounds nice. I hope you succeed." He looked to Red Leader, his smile apologetic for leaving him out. "I guess you do."

Red Leader looked down on them with such disdain, Tord actually felt afraid for a moment, his smile dying on his lips. "You don't." He growled. "You build a giant robot under the house and fuck everything up for everyone. I was going to go easy on you, but neither of you deserve it. I don't even have Tom and Matt. Not really. When Matt lost an eye and Tom developed cancer, I saved them both, and and now they stay with me because they have to. They work for me, nothing more than soldiers. Edd refuses. He won't have anything to do with me, he won't salute, he won't smile, won't even look at me. I've killed for less, but he's still the only one who can get away with it because I'm soft." He spat the word out, like a bad taste in his mouth. Middle-Tord held him close. "I'm weak. I'll never get him back in my life, and it's my fault. It's your fault. You can't do this. I'm telling you right now, as ruler of the world and as you from the future, you. Can't. Do this."

Middle-Tord bit his lip, thinking to himself. Tord patted his back and looked up. "I'm...sorry. I'm sorry all that happened to you. I'm sorry it's going to happen to me. I don't want to lose my friends."

"Too fucking bad." Red Leader said bitterly.

"I'm going to make things right." Tord promised. "This won't happen."

Red Leader sighed, running a hand through his hair. "With any luck, you'll be the one of us to succeed. I hope you are, kid. Tord, it's time to go. Time travel is a huge strain."

Middle-Tord hugged him again, fingers nestled in his dark hair. "I'm sorry you had to hear this. But I think I'm too far gone. The robot is built. I'll try, and if I end up failing anyway, it's up to you to end the cycle." He let him go, giving a small smile, and got up, taking Red Leader's arm. "Bye, Tord. Good luck."

There was a flash of light as Red Leader clicked something around his wrist, and they disappeared.

The room was silent, and Tord was...thoughtful. Poor Red Leader. What was a rule without someone to rule with you. And he didn't trust anyone more than Edd, Matt, and Tom.

The world was a mess, someone needed to rule. Why not him? He already knows he's going to succeed. If he's destined to lose his friends in the process, he'd have to leave them out of it. Just...leave them, like Middle-Tord. The giant robot would still have to go under the house, he couldn't do it anywhere else. But maybe after he left, and got himself some of that will to live stuff, he could come back quietly for the robot. Just take it and go. Take over the world without his friends getting hurt.

And if his dear friends still ended up avoiding him in the future when he'll be Red Leader, he can always try...force. He didn't like the word coercion, but it was fitting. He could ban cola all together. Call it a drug. Force Edd to come back to him. He could save Tom and Matt like Red Leader did, and they'd stay with him too!

Mind made up, Tord reached over and turned off the lamp. He snuggled into his blankets, imagining his hair lightening over time and his freckles disappearing as he matured. He imagined his friends at his side as he ruled the world.

He could do this.

Chapter Text

Edd wiped his eyes, fat tears that his fingers didn't catch rolling down his cheeks. Ghost Town, by The Specials played softly in his earbuds as he read the inscription in the stone, over and over. The evening was cool, and his black jacket didn't protect against the chill of the wind as the sun lowered further in the sky.

Tord was gone.

He hadn't gone to the funeral- none of them had. They hadn't been invited. The only reason Edd was at the cemetery was because he had gotten a visit from one Patryk Duluvics, and requested to see Tord's grave before going on to the meeting to discuss his position as one of the beneficiaries in Tord's will. He was...nervous. It'd been years since he'd heard about his old friend, and even longer since he'd actually seen him. He hadn't expected to be left anything when Tord finally passed, and he certainly hadn't expected him to die at all. Tord was always so full of life, of determination. Him dying...it didn't make sense. It was just one of those things that never happened. That shouldn't happen.

Tord used to say if. “If I ever die, Edd, I want my funeral to be a big, huge party. Celebrate how great I was! And of course, how kick-ass I will be fighting skeletons and demons in Hell.” But Edd never thought he’d really ever....

A hand touched his shoulder and he closed his eyes, gave a short nod, and pulled his earbuds out of his ears. He looked up into the gloomy face of Patryk, and scrubbed his cheeks with his damp sleeves again. “I'm ready.” He said quietly.

Patryk led him to the car, even opening the back door for him. “We have a long drive sir, feel free to nap.” He said gently, and the sheer compassion in his voice made Edd tear up again. He mumbled a watery “Thanks,” and got into the back seat.

The ride was indeed long, and quiet to boot. Edd changed from the black jacket to his green hoodie on the way. It didn't feel right to mourn his friend in front of a stranger. Still, no one spoke. It wasn't until almost an hour later that Patryk cleared his throat. “Forgive me sir, but...if it helps at all, he spoke of you fondly. Rarely, but fondly.”

Edd sighed, a little shakily, and nodded. “It does, thanks. Um, you can just call me Edd, you know. Or Edward, if you don't want to be that casual.”

“Edward then, but not in front of the others.” Patryk looked at him through the rear-view mirror, a strange twinkle in his eye.

The red car pulled off a tiny dirt road, and from there, it took another few turns until Edd was sure they must be lost. Then they reached a gate. Iron, topped with spikes and coated in barbed-wire. Very Tord. Patryk flicked a switch by the radio dial and the gate opened, blue sparks dancing as the metal scraped against itself. Electrified. Edd thought. But why? Before he could voice his question, they pulled up in front of a huge building Edd hadn't seen before.

Patryk got out and opened Edd's door for him, clearing his throat. “Alright, sir. As you've read, in your section of the will, Tord left to you an order. I suppose he wanted you to carry on his work, or perhaps clean up after him. It's very hard to say what his motivations and intentions were, even for us.” Patryk led him up to the door, back straight and lips tight. “Please bear in mind that many of these people don't have anywhere to go without Tord. Without this army. His passing has been very hard on everyone in the building, all of whom he knew by name.” Edd had a hard time imagining Tord as caring towards anyone or anything but his own ambition, but Patryk’s words sounded very heartfelt.

The other man stopped at the door, where an angry-looking woman in blue and red saluted them, and typed in a pass code. He pushed the door open and almost immediately bumped into a shorter man upon stepping inside.

“Patryk! It's about time! This place is a disaster without Red Leader!” The man shouted, grabbing Patryk’s hand. He was a broad man, with a wide chest and one blank eye. A scar ran down from just under his eyebrow to his cheekbone. Yet he looked so frazzled, Edd wondered for a moment what could possibly be such a big deal.

“Paul.”

“We've got infighting, a riot in the rec room, complete with a fire!” The distressed man, who Edd supposed must be Paul, went on as though he’d been uninterrupted.

“Paul, please-” Patryk tried again.

“And the sniper squad is hanging out with the spies, that simply can’t be a good influence on them-” he stopped to take a deep breath, his face having turned a light red.

“Pa-” “The snipers or the spies?” Edd asked, unintentionally cutting off Patryk.

Paul let out a sound that seemed to be half groan and half shout, clearly entirely agonized, and tore his fingers through his hair, turning his gaze on Edd. He froze.

“Paul, this is Edward Gold.” Patryk gestured to him, and Edd gave a small wave with one hand.

Paul snapped up straight, hand flying up to his head in a sharp salute. “Paul Duluvics. It’s an honor to meet you sir. I apologize for that...display. Please forgive me, I didn’t realize you would be arriving so soon.” He snuck a frown in Patryk’s direction before slipping back into a neutral expression, so quickly Edd wasn’t sure it had happened at all.

“Um, it’s nice to meet you too, Paul. Please, call me Edward.” He slid his hand back into his pocket and peeked behind Paul, arching an eyebrow. “Can I ask what’s going on?”

“After the passing of Red Leader, in a blaze of glory and gunfire may be be-” Paul said, putting his hand over his heart and touching a familiar looking symbol embroidered into his coat there.

“In a blaze of glory and gunfire may he be.” Patryk echoed, copying the motion.

“-everything fell into chaos. We don’t know where to go from here. Before, we had a purpose. We had loyalty, to each other and to our commander. We were a family. Now we’re more like rats in a barrel. We’re helpless, directionless, we have no discipline or sense anymore. We’re lost. Soldiers, fighting over every little thing as though we’ve lost all ability to compromise. Please, sir, guide us.”

“Guide you?” Edd blinked, glancing at Patryk. “Why would you want my guidance?”

Paul also turned to look at Patryk, eyes wide. The man cleared his throat. “When Red Leader left, he willed to you an order.” Edd nodded slowly. “Before I explain further, let me show you around.”

They walked quietly through the halls, littered with paper and bullets (live rounds, Edd noted; unshot), Paul on his left and Patryk to his right. “These are the A-wing barracks, the largest we have. Ground and air soldiers alike sleep here, two to a room. Other than the two assigned to each room, only high ranking soldiers like Paul and I, and of course Red Leader, have clearance to enter.”

Paul slipped a key-card into Edd’s hand. The words R-Class Access shone in white on a black background. “That will get you anywhere in the building. You are the only one with R-Access, sir.” He said. “Soldiers have T-Access, cards that allow them to enter their own rooms, the cafeteria, or the rec room. Higher ranking soldiers like captains have M-Access, and can enter anyone’s barrack in their own wing, or the private medical bay. Some rooms, like the emergency equipment room or the basement, can only be accessed by Patryk and I. We have E-Access, which will also get us into anyone’s barracks in case of emergency, or Red Leader’s main office. Only you can get into Red Leader’s private rooms.”

Edd put the keycard in the inner pocket of his coat for safe keeping, and looked up as they began to slow down. A group of soldiers sat, playing poker with crumpled bills and stacks of coins.

When Patryk cleared his throat, they all froze and looked up. Quickly, they all got to their feet, money forgotten, and saluted. Edd shuddered. “We’ll be gathering everyone in the venue for an important meeting,” the tall man said, his tone and voice and overall demeanor very firm. “There will be an announcement over the PA system to summon everyone together, but it will be immediate, no running late, so it might be a good idea to actually get dressed first.” The soldiers nodded, spouting a “Yes sir!” in perfect unison, and scattered.

“Word gets around fast,” Paul turned around, and Patryk and Edd followed him back down the hall. “I wouldn’t be surprised if half the compound beat us there.”

“You guys seem to run a pretty tight ship around here.” Edd offered, if only for the strange need he felt to fill the silence.

“It’s funny that you say that, sir, we were actually making plans to form a naval base next.” Patryk said, a tinge of pride in his voice.

The obvious pun staring him in the face didn't deter Edd, and so the silence returned, the tour continued, and Edd found himself in deeper and deeper with this strange group.

One soldier they passed dropped her folder and saluted so suddenly, Edd actually jumped. In another hall, there were two fighting over something, one in a hood holding it high above the other’s reach. One soldier stood beside, watching in amusement and twirling a hammer. When they neared, all three of them lined up and saluted as well, backs straight and faces neutral. Edd was...unnerved. Everyone they came into contact with somehow seemed to know something he didn’t, and were always quick to jump to attention. Like they were afraid to offend him.

He was worried about what this order that Tord had left him might be, and what it had to do with an entire army.

Before he could worry about it for too long, the tour was ending, and Paul used his keycard to get them into a room at the end of the hall. It was very clearly an office, an entire wall of it made up of screens displaying different parts of the compound. Paul urged him forward wordlessly, and Edd carefully stepped around the desk. There was a line of buttons and switches, and he pressed a few experimentally. Screens flickered, showing different views of the same room, and when he pressed another, they brought up a new room altogether. One switch turned on sound, and he clearly heard two soldiers arguing in a language unknown to him. He flicked it off again. The top drawer had a gun inside, and several pens and pencils, riddled with bite marks. Tord had a terrible, disgusting habit of biting everything, from straws to pens to other people. Nasty. He closed the drawer and looked up questioningly.

“Would you care to try the PA system, sir?” Patryk offered.

Edd looked to the microphone on the desk, and the large red button nearby. “What would I say?”

“Summon everyone to the venue for a meeting.” Paul offered. “Or sing. Red Leader used to sing, sometimes.” He looked away. “Sometimes I don’t know if he knew he did it. No one asked.”

Edd sat in the cushioned rolling chair, clearing his throat as he pulled the microphone closer. He pressed the button.

"This was a triumph...I'm making a note here, huge success. It's hard to overstate my satisfaction." He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he hummed between verses. "We do what we must, because we can. For the good for all of us- except the ones who are dead." Paul smiled, but Edd didn’t notice. "But there's no use crying over every mistake, we just keep on trying till we run out of cake. And the science gets done, and you make a neat gun...for the people who are still alive." Edd’s voice echoed down the halls, crackled through the single speaker in every room in the compound. "Everyone please report immediately to the venue for an important meeting. Do not be late."

He lifted his finger off the button and sat back in his seat, running his fingers through his hair. “That was...” he trailed off, biting the inside of his bottom lip. “How was that?” He asked, and looked up at Paul and Patryk.

“Very eloquent, sir.” Patryk said. “Let’s get going.”

They left the office, and Edd couldn’t help but wince when he saw Tord’s name on the door.

The trio entered the venue from the back, walking down the aisle past what had to be hundreds of immaculately dressed soldiers, all standing still and at attention, facing the podium at the front of the room. Edd could feel their eyes on his back as he passed them, but he kept his eyes forward. Paul and Patryk obviously trusted these people, men and women and variations thereupon alike, enough to turn their backs to them. So Edd did too. Loyalty, he told himself. To each other and their commander. Well, commanders. The two beside him were obviously second in the chain, just under Tord. So without him, it only made sense that they step up. The soldiers rioting and fighting was just mourning. He knew how hard it was, he held nothing against them.

They stepped up onto the platform and Patryk stood before the podium, Paul and Edd at his side. “My fellow soldiers. It is a time of immense sorrow for all of us.” He spoke without that firmness from earlier, his voice softer now. Kinder. “Red Leader has gone now, in a blaze of glory and gunfire may he be.”

"In a blaze of glory and gunfire may he be!" The crowd spoke together, touching their hands over their hearts. Edd remained quiet, but he copied the motion as Paul did beside him.

Patryk touched his as well, closing his eyes for a second before opening them again. “Red Leader is gone, but he has not abandoned us. We are not alone. We have each other. Just as we do in battle, we stand together now. In our collective mourning it is easy to lose sight of Red Leader’s loyalty to all of us. He would never leave us behind. He is gone in body, but his ideals remain. His loyalty remains. We remain! And even if his successor chooses not to, we will carry on, because that is what we do best. Before we go on, Paul would like to say a few words.”

He stepped back from the microphone and joined Edd, Paul taking Patryk’s place at the podium.

“Red Leader was a strict man.” Paul jumped in immediately, none of Patryk’s softness in his tone or stance. Even the way he gripped the podium was intense. “Meticulous in his work and unforgiving of treachery. He fought to keep everyone here safe, and I am disappointed in everyone in this room. Falling into chaos as you did. Fighting with your comrades, your family, and over what? Nothing. A dead man. I’m disgusted with all of you.” A few soldiers bowed their heads, or looked away, bodies tense. “But...Red Leader would not be.” His shoulders sagged and he shook his head. “Red Leader cared for every one of us in our darkest hours of need. He was harsh when he needed to be, but if it wasn’t necessary, he was a friend to all of us. He wanted us to know he loved us, and we did. He wanted us to love him back, and we did. And if ever we didn’t, he understood. He helped us through hard times, gave us light and purpose in our lives, something to fight for! Something to believe in. Before he was our commander, he was our friend. For many, our only friend. We have not been respecting his memory as we should be. Now more than ever is the time to remember how good he was to all of us, and return the favor by honoring his wishes. His successor, should he choose to stay, can do great things for us, just as Red Leader did. I ask only that you give him the respect he deserves, regardless of his decision. Red Leader would not have chosen someone who could not do the job.”

Edd looked out over the crowd. Whoever Tord had chosen as his “successor” was in for a hell of a lot of work. Tord was leading an entire army, who could possibly bear such a weight? And willingly?

Paul, meanwhile, knelt down and retrieved a box from the shelf inside the podium, and lifted it into the air. He stepped back and turned to Patryk. The taller soldier gingerly removed the lid before stepping aside, allowing Paul to offer the box to Edd.

Edd reached in, and pulled out Tord’s hat. It was worn and scuffed, and Edd felt sick upon seeing it.

“I...no. There has to be a mistake.” Edd looked up at Paul and Patryk. “I’m here to fill out an order for him, a- a last request, that’s what the will said! I’m not a leader!”

“The will stated that Red Leader left you an order.” Patryk said quietly, ever patient. “We are the order. An order of soldiers under your command. Fiercely loyal and obedient, ready to fulfill your orders.”

“He wouldn’t have chosen you by mistake.” Paul said. “Red Leader doesn’t make mistakes.”

Edd was quaking where he stood, Tord’s hat in his hands. They were right. Tord didn’t make mistakes. Even Tom’s survival on the day Tord took back his giant robot was pure dumb luck on Tom’s part. By all accounts, he should have died.

And without the army, these soldiers had nowhere to go. No families, no homes, no one to miss them. They would be lost in the world.

Edd swallowed the lump in his throat and let out a slow, shaky breath. He had to do this. For Tord. In a blaze of glory of gunfire may he be. Because Tord was never the type to stop and rest, Edd told himself.

He stilled his shaking hands and looked up at the order of soldiers. “I hope you guys like green.”

And he fit the hat snugly around the crown of his head.

Chapter Text

The hive was, as usual, crowded, hostile, and annoying as hell. Tord wanted out. He needed a break from, if you'll excuse the pun, all the buzz of everyday life. He wanted to go out and get rowdy, fight something worth fighting, not just spar with Paul and Patryk, his neighbors, or the squirrel that occasionally drifted too close to their nest. He was itching for a chance to stretch his wings, and put his stinger to good use. Kill something that would really fight him, and then eat it when he won.

With a decent idea of what he wanted to do, he walked to the exit early in the morning, as silent as possible so's not to disturb anyone else, and took off out the door with sleek wings. The meadow was beautiful, and their nest was up quite high, giving him a lovely view of the cool morning. Flowers and scattered trees, as far as the eye could see, until green met with blue on the horizon. However grand a home, however, Tord was still looking for a fight.

He dove down, thin black and yellow stripes behind him as he went in for a closer look. Drops of dew in the early morning sun became visible to him, delicately resting on leaves and petals and blades of grass. "Wow..." He mumbled, landing on a wide leaf he couldn't identify. He'd never considered how lovely the flowers were when they were still and alone, instead of providing him cover to sneak up on an innocent victim.

Speaking of which....

Below him, simply walking along the dirt floor as though it didn't have a care in the world, was a little bumblebee. They had a plain hoodie on, like Tord's, except that it was green instead of red. He hiked up his legs, ready to leap, and dove, keeping his wings still so his prey would have no warning.

Suddenly, something was coming down on top of him, light in weight but being held firmly over him. He was turned over in a split second, holding onto the net that caught him to keep from tumbling around. He blinked and looked around, finding himself bagged up tight.

“Well, well, well. What have we here? A lone hunter, becoming the hunted.” A voice said smoothly, and Tord went cold. Shit. Shit! He looked up, fears confirmed and bumblebee forgotten as he gazed up into the smiling face of a spider, larger than he was and holding his net with two small hands at the end of two long arms. One of those terrible spiders that dropped down with nets to catch their food.

“Better watch it, freak!” Tord snapped. “You don't want it with me! My stinger is permanent and I'm powerful; I can sting you to death before you get your ugly mug anywhere close to me.” He smirked, flipping the other creature off.

“Wanna bet?” The spider’s smile broadened into a wicked grin, flashing his sharp white fangs. Black eyes stared down at him, daring him to make a move. Tord wondered briefly if this would really be the end.

“Tom!” A voice called from the ground, and both Tord and the spider, who must have been Tom, looked down.

Standing there, arms crossed and frowning at the arachnid with a look of disappointment, was the bumblebee from earlier. He was so cute up close... Big eyes, soft hair, smooth antennae... He had a nice belly too, under that hoodie. Probably all squishy and delicious. Tord was practically drooling.

“Edd!” Tom began, “You can't really expect me to let him go! He was going to kill you! He just threatened me! He's a wasp!”

“Why does that give his life any less value than yours, or mine?” Edd said patiently, his frown turning to a small, encouraging smile. “Go on, let him go.”

With a huff of disgust, Tom snipped a thread of silk, and promptly dropped Tord on his face.

“Ahh...probably...deserved that....” Tord rolled over, holding his side. “Shit...that's a helluva bodyguard you got. I didn't think spiders and bumblebees were symbiotic.”

“We're not, it's just that Tom and I are good friends.” Tord lay still, watching the bumblebee approach. He was so cute. He bit his lip. It would be a crime against nature herself not to eat such a beautiful morsel. “-ur name?”

Tord blinked and shook his head, letting the bee pull the webbing off of him. “Sorry, what?”

Another sweet smile. “I said my name is Edd. What's your name?”

“Tord.” He said quietly, staring as Edd offered out his hand. He took it, after a second of watching him, and let Edd help him to his feet. “I um. About just now-”

“Save it, sicko.” Tom barked, at the same time Edd said, “Don't worry about it.” He sent his friend a stern look before going on. “I have to believe that everyone is, at heart, good. I'm sure you were just hungry, and that's okay. Nature and all.”

“I don't want to eat you!” Tord said quickly, tightening his hand around Edd's as the other began to let go. “I-I mean, I did, and I'm sorry, but...I don't want to now. I try to avoid talking with my food, it- it freaks me out.”

Edd laughed, and it was like Tord was listening to tinkling bells. “I'm sure it would freak me out too! Really though, Tord, don't worry about it.”

Tord smiled, shoulders slumping a little. God, he was cute. “Wow.” He mumbled. The bumblebee’s cheeks turned pink and he laughed again, this time a little more awkward.

“Um, you can let go now...friend. Buddy.” He said, giving his hand a light tug.

Tord jerked his hands away, his own face on fire. “Uh. Um. Right. Anyway. I should...I should go. I have a thing- um, to go to. You know. Wasp stuff.” He stepped back, stumbling a little over the silk webbing around his legs.

“Wait!” Edd called, grabbing Tord’s arm to keep him from falling, or retreating. “You can’t fly safely with all that gunk on you. Let us help you out.”

“What do you mean ‘us’?!” Tom cried. Tord had almost forgotten he was there, and frowned when he realized Tom probably saw him look like an idiot. The spider stepped closer on four of the longest legs Tord had ever seen, crossing his arms. His blue hoodie sagging on his sleek black frame, and everything about him was sharp and angular, and made Tord a little nervous. Who was this Edd guy to be friends with a spider?

He blinked back into focus as Edd huffed, pulling Tord closer. “He was going to leave! But he can’t, because all the webbing would make it too dangerous!” He smiled suddenly, and quieted down. His entire demeanor changed so quickly Tord had to do a double take. Twice. “But if you want to leave it, I guess he can come with us to visit Matt...” He hummed, moving an arm around Tord’s shoulders. “What do you say? Wanna take a walk with me, handsome?” Something in his voice sounded a little too sincere to make Tord comfortable.

“U-uh, well-”

“Fine!” Tom shouted, cutting him off. “I’ll get it, god! And it’s not gunk, it’s silk!” He scowled and stalked up to Tord, grabbing him by his upper arms and lifting him up.

“Hey! Put me down, asshole!” Tord kicked, watching in distress as Edd backed up with a satisfied smile. Oh fuck, he was going to be killed- he should have just left!

“Calm down, idiot, I’m cleaning you off.” Tom shook him a little, and his other two hands began to pull the sticky webbing from his wings and hair. “You’re lucky Edd is so merciful, or I would’ve killed you already.”

“How sweet.” Tord muttered bitterly. As soon as his feet touched the earth again he beat his wings and zipped out of reach, looking down at Tom and flipping him off with both hands. “Screw you!” He called. “Screw you, screw you! You’re an idiot, a-and you suck!”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome.” Tom returned the gesture with all four hands. “Best hope I don’t catch you alone any time soon.”

Edd smacked Tom in the arm, frowning up at him. “Be nice!” He turned his gaze to Tord and smiled, and Tord’s stomach did a flip. “And you- I hope to see you again!” Then he waved, and turned and continued on his walk, Tom followed shortly after.

Tord turned and hurried home, his face hot and much hungrier than he had been when he first set out that morning. Yes...perhaps Edd would see him again. Preferably on a day where Tord wasn’t starving.

Chapter Text

Paul nursed the last bit of scotch from his glass, watching Patryk, the bartender, meticulously wipe the counter behind him clean. “How are you holding up, hotcakes?”

“I told you not to call me that.” Patryk set the rag down with a little more force than was probably necessary, and Paul grinned at him. “...I”m fine. The hole is already healing up nicely. How are you and Tord?”

“I can still see, so I guess I'm as good as it gets.” Paul traced stitches above and below his eye, wincing as he brushed the sensitive wound. “No word on Bossypants, though. He's in the back, probably watching weird porn and smoking. Gotta wind down from work somehow."

Patryk hummed softly. "He gets so very entangled in everything he does..."

"And yet," Paul continued, "he stays so incredibly distant. It'd be impossible for anyone but us to connect the dots."

"You'd think a puzzle with only three dots would be easy to solve." Patryk finally cracked a smile, and Paul heard bells.

Well, a bell.

The bell above the door, to be specific.

Both men scowled and Paul sat up, turning on his stool towards the door. "It's eight! We closed half an hour ago!" He called, rising to his feet. "Go- what the fuck?" He looked to Patryk with wide eyes, only getting a similar expression and a shrug in response.

Paul looked back towards the door, at the boy standing there. He had a big green coat on, over a loose hoodie, the dirty purple color clashing terribly with his bright orange hair. Right away Paul could tell the kid was way too skinny to be healthy. He had the height of a fifteen year old, but looked almost twelve in the way he held himself, arms wrapped tightly around his middle, his entire frame shaking.

"Are you lost, kid?" He tried, because Paul was not someone who enjoyed talking to children, nor was he any good at it. Still, he approached the redhead slowly, keeping his voice down so's not to frighten him. It was just like talking to a dog, right? Be gentle, show that you mean no harm, that kind of thing. He stopped walking a few feet from the bar, offering a hand out. "It's okay, kid. Talk to me." The boy looked up at him, and Paul frowned deeply as he recognized the swelling around his eye, and the dried blood on his bottom lip. Someone clocked this kid pretty good- and more than once.

"I'm looking for the owner of that coat." The boy said quietly, reaching out and pointing one spindly finger at Tord's jacket, deep blue and hung elegantly over the back of a stool at the bar. Paul put his hand down. No way...this kid was a client?

Patryk stepped in, leaning on the bar with an expression of quiet intensity on his face. "Is that right?" The boy nodded, moving his hand back to his other arm, clutching his jacket closer. Patryk stood up straight, glancing to Paul. "I'm going to check out the front and back. Don't do anything you don't have to." And he disappeared through a door behind the bar.

"Alright kid, talk to me. If you want to see him, you're either a dead man, or a cop." Paul crossed his arms, eyes narrowed dangerously at the freckled boy before him.

"N-neither!" He said quickly, voice cracking and blue eyes wide.

Paul immediately felt terrible for laying such a serious accusation at the feet of a little boy. But after what happened a few nights ago, it was best to be on the safe side. They couldn't lose another.

"A-at least, not yet." The boy bit his lip, only to quickly wince and let go of it, new blood slowly seeping from the sore. "I-I will be- dead that is- b-but that's why I'm here! I want help. I know the rules: ask for the man in the blue, and all your problems go away."

"Not for free, kid." Paul sighed. "This isn't a charity. You have to pay. Who told you all this anyway? There's a strict code-"

"I know!" The boy cried suddenly, and when Paul looked back at him, there were tears in his eyes. "It took me forever to get here! A-and everything is getting worse and worse all the while, so I really need to speak to the man in blue! If he doesn't help me, I'm going to die! Or worse!"

Paul knew there were a lot of things worse than death. A whole lot of things. But the kid before him, the child- he had no business knowing anything of the sort. It was obvious he was desperate, but the knowledge didn’t do anything but pull his heartstrings tight, threatening to snap in his chest. “Kid, really...I don’t know what to tell you other than no. I’m sorry.”

The boy shook his head slowly, bruised tissue threatening to swell his teary eye closed. The light caught his cheekbones, and Paul found himself wondering just how bad things were for this kid.

Before he could speak, a hand landed on his shoulder, gloved and none too-gentle.

“Let’s not get hasty, Paul. Patryk has done a perimeter search and everything is diamonds.” Tord’s smooth voice slid into the air, and the redheaded boy looked up at him with big eyes. “So you’re looking for me, huh?” He continued, ruffling the ginger’s hair as he passed between them to retrieve his coat. “Tell me your name, and we can talk in my office.”

“It’s Matt. Er, Matthew. Matthew Greaves. Sir.” The boy made an effort to stand up straight, but after a short battle with himself that Paul watched with interest, he slouched again, holding his jacket so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Pleasure to meet you, Matt.” Tord turned back to them, jacket buttoned up and hands in his pocket. “Paul, be good now. We have to assume that every client who comes in is aware of the procedure, and possible consequences.” He smiled, the torn up side of his face stretching and aching. “My name is Tord. Come, let us chat.”

He gently guided Matt towards the back door, where Tord’s personal office was located, and they were gone.

Paul poured himself another glass of scotch and waited for Patryk to finish locking up.

--------------------

Tord sat at his desk, silently looking over the quiet boy sitting before him. “You know who I am. Do you know what I do?”

Matt nodded, tightly clutching the tissue box he’d been given to his chest. “Yes sir. You’re a murderer.”

Tord laughed, a dry, harsh sound, and his client winced. “Not quite. I’m a hitman, Matt.”

Matt furrowed his eyebrows, distress all over his gaunt features. “No, I don’t want you to hit him, he has to be dead! Is there someone else who will do what I need?”

Tord blinked, genuinely shocked for a moment, before shaking his head. “A hitman is a contract killer. Someone you hire to commit a murder for you.”

Relief flooded Matt’s face and he slumped deeper into his chair. “Oh, thank god... You scared me. I guess you’re the guy I need after all.”

“You got worked up in a hurry.” Tord clicked his teeth. “Just how quickly do you need this job done?”

“It has to be done before tomorrow evening. I don’t want to be home while you do it, so I’ll stay with a friend tonight and hang out there tomorrow.”

“You live with the target?” Tord arched an eyebrow. He’d been expecting a “whenever,” and for Matt to tell him there was a bully at school making his life hell. He was not expecting Matt’s next words, and once he heard them, he scolded himself for not seeing it coming.

“He’s my stepdad.” Matt said softly, looking down now.

“You don’t like your mom’s new boyfriend, huh?” Tord asked weakly. Please, for once in his damn life, please let him be wrong.

“No.” Matt took a shaky breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he rocked slowly, back and forth, back and forth. “He...h-he um...no. I don’t like him.”

“You can’t hire hits on people just because you don’t like them. I don’t want to ask, and I know you don’t want to tell me, but I need a more serious, detailed reason for why you are willing to pay money to get me to kill someone.” Tord felt sick as he watched Matt curl up a little tighter.

“He gets home before mom. He likes to um...h-he likes to...he takes pictures. Of me.” Matt slid his hands up into his hair, clutching it tightly in his fists. “Naked pictures. A-and he likes to...he puts his hands where I don’t want them. If I m-make too much noise, o-or if I say- say no to anything, he hits me.” Matt sucked in a deep breath, which shuddered and shook on its way back out, before doing it again.

“Matt.” Tord said, struggling to stay attached to his physical body. Dissociating was a big issue for him when he got too stressed, but he couldn’t let it stop him now. “Matt, look at me.”

Slowly, the redhead brought himself up, tear tracks down his face and his nose beginning to run. He wiped it with his sleeve, and sniffled for good measure, but the silent tears kept coming.

“Are you certain this is how you want this problem solved? You could tell your mom. Or another adult you trust.”

Matt shook his head. “I have to handle this. M-mom says I’m a liar. Sh-she would never believe me. No one would.”

Tord nodded quietly. “What about your friend? The one you plan to stay with? Can’t you tell them or their parents?”

Matt wiped his nose again, his tears beginning to slow. “No. Edd is sweet. But he would tell my mom, and then I wouldn’t be able to see him. And Tom would just make things worse.”

“How so?”

“His dad is a cop. He’d tell my mom too, and arrest him, and then everyone would know what he did to me.” Matt took a deep breath, reaching into his pocket. He leaned forward and dropped a handful of crumpled bills on the desk, all hundreds. “I stole it from him. When I ran away. If you don’t do this, or find someone who can, I’ll be dead by daylight.”

Tord looked up at the photo of Karl Marx on his wall. "Give me strength..." He thought. He picked up the bills, straightening them out as he counted. “Seven hundred dollars.”

“I-is it not enough? I can find more! It would take me longer, so it would have to be after you do the thing, but please, I-”

“I’m not accepting your money, Matt.” Tord placed the bills back on the desk, closer to Matt this time. “Take those back and give me your street address. I’ll take care of your problem for you.”

“W-what?” Matt blinked owlishly before suddenly jumping to his feet, tissue box falling from his lap to the floor. “No! I pay you to do a job and you do it! Those are the rules!”

“I make the rules around here, kid.” Tord said calmly. “If I had known what kind of man that guy is, I would have done it sooner, and probably made it nice and messy. Because people like him make me sick. I won’t accept your money. And in return, you need to promise me something.”

Matt swallowed, nodding tentatively.

“Promise that you won’t ever give up. Fight to make your life better. Fight to help other people in theirs. Just...don’t stop trying. People need you, Matt. Even if they don’t know it yet.”

Matt picked up the money and tucked it into his pocket. “I promise, sir.”

“Call me Tord. Since we’re friends.” Tord got up and walked around the desk, ruffling Matt’s hair as he showed him the door. “Sleep well, Matt.”

--------------------

“Matt!” Edd cried, taking his friend’s hands and pulling him into the house. “You said you’d be late for the sleepover, but not this late! And not with a black eye!”

Tom frowned at him. “I guess I’ll get the frozen peas out. You guys go set up the movie.”

Edd pulled Matt downstairs, where they had blankets and pillows all over to make the whole room comfortable. “Matt, you know you can tell me, right? If anyone is hurting you?” He bit his lip, giving Matt’s hand a light squeeze.

“Don’t worry, Edd.” Matt smiled, even as his split lip threatened to reopen. “I have a feeling things are going to get a lot better for me.”

“I hope so.” Tom’s voice entered, followed by Tom himself, carrying a bowl of popcorn and a pack of peas from the freezer. “Now let’s get this movie marathon going! I want to watch Bing’s new monster movie!”

Matt curled up between his two best friends, bowl of popcorn in his lap, and let himself have a good time. And that night, when the movies were over and the snacks eaten, Matt slept well. Never again would he have to worry about the monster in the next room.

Chapter Text

Tom was an angry child. Tord knew this from the day he first took him in, of course, but he didn’t quite know why. He had been angry as a kid too, always getting into fights, always looking for ways to ruin things beyond all recognition. But he was angry at the injustices of the world, the rampant -isms in life, which he thought could be much better handled by himself. As ruler. Yes, of the whole world. Who better than someone with no attachment to anything or anyone, with no bias or personal morals in any direction except “Don’t be a fucking asshole.” He had reasons to be angry, and expelled his feelings in healthy ways. Well, healthier than Tom did. He normally tried to let his kids solve their own problems, and come to him to help, but he knew he needed to step in when Matt had to get three broken fingers set and splint by the army medic on the same day that Edd fell down a full flight of stairs. (A fall that, thanks to heavy surveillance, was proven to be less of an accident than Edd had told him.) Tom couldn’t be trusted to handle his emotions on his own, whatever the motivations behind them were.

“Now, if you had shot the full magazine, your semiautomatic would have locked the slide open for you. Because there’s still two live rounds inside, it’s closed, right?”

Tom nodded, keeping his finger off the trigger as he set the pistol on the counter. This was the part where Tord explained stuff, and then had him repeat it to make sure he understood, so he was sure to pay attention.

“Always make sure your safety is on first, and that your handgun is pointed in the right direction. Then you just press this-” he clicked the little button on the side of the hand grip, and ejected the magazine safely into his other hand. “See that? My magazine is empty. But remember rule number one?”

“All guns are always loaded.” Tom recited.

“Good boy. Now, mine is fully unloaded because I shot all my rounds, but because of rule one, you must double check. So you check the slide on the gun to make sure there are no rounds still in the chamber.” He tilted the slide towards Tom, making sure to keep the barrel pointed away from both of them. “What do you see?”

“Nothing.” Tom said, moving his head to check from all directions. Tord was impressed with his thoroughness. “The gun is clear.”

“Nicely done.” Tord nodded. “If you didn’t shoot all your rounds, you have to pull the slide back manually and raise the lock yourself to check it.” He demonstrated, and then set his gun down with the muzzle pointed towards the targets. “Go.”

Tom picked up his gun again, double-checking that the safety was still on, before copying what Tord had done, ejecting the magazine and locking the slide back on the gun. If he did things out of order, they’d go faster. Tord would have interrupted already if he had done something wrong, as proven ten minutes ago, when Tom gestured towards the door with the gun and Tord flipped out, so he told himself it was fine. “My chamber is clear,” he said, checking it and then setting the gun down again, “but there’s two rounds in my magazine. How do I take them out?”

“Why would you take them out?”

“When storing the gun, make sure it is fully unloaded so it does the least amount of damage possible if falling into the wrong hands.”

Tord nodded, pleased. “As long as you are under this roof, you will never have to worry for your life, but what if, in the future, you are like me, and need to always be ready for defense?”

“Keep the magazine loaded, but separate from your gun. That way you can load quickly, but the gun is still mostly harmless if someone else gets a hold of it.” Tom said easily. (He was the fastest learner amidst his brothers, and Tord was careful when choosing his words around him, because Tord tried not to say anything he didn’t mean, and he did not need Tom picking up any resentment for the human race like he did. He was just a kid.)

“Very good, Tom. If a round is still in the magazine, press down slightly on the top round and with your thumb, and slide the round out of the magazine. Do this until all the rounds have been removed.” He didn’t need to demonstrate; by the time he was finished talking, Tom had finished unloading. He set the empty magazine down on the counter, and lined up the bullets next to it. “Now, once more before we put everything away, what are the rules of firearm usage?”

Tom bit his cheek, knowing they were done for the day. “Rule one, all guns are always loaded. Rule two, never let the muzzle cover anything you are not willing to destroy.” He glanced at the gun again in thought, before snapping his gaze back to Tord. “Keep your finger off the trigger until your sights are on the target. That’s rule three. Rule four is to be sure of your target and what is beyond it.”

Tord smiled at him, a toothy grin that radiated pride, and ruffled his hair. “Very good! You’re getting smarter every day. Feel any better than you did earlier?” He asked, because Tom never actually wanted  to go out and shoot, it was Tord who dragged him in to help him blow some steam. If he brought Tom in when he was angry and did want  to shoot, he would only be teaching him that guns were the answer. Even if used correctly, that was not the mindset he wanted to instill in a child of ten.

“Yeah, I think so.” Tom nodded, picking up the special case Tord had for the gun he’d been using so he could put everything away. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Tom.” Tord nodded. “Perhaps in the future, you’ll be more inclined to do something non-violent when you’re upset with your brothers. Why are you always picking on them?”

Tom didn’t answer him, he just scowled at the ground.

“We can knit next time.” He said lightly, only vaguely threatening in tone. They could knit if Tom wanted, but he’d sure as hell make him do it if he kept being difficult.

“They’re stupid and weak.” Tom muttered bitterly, snapping the gun case closed and locking it. “If they let me bully them, they’ll let anyone do it.”

Tord hummed. “Why do you suppose they let you bully them?”

“Because they don’t know how to defend themselves.”

“Why don’t you teach them, instead of hurting them? You broke Matt’s fingers. Broke them. And you pushed Edd do wn a very long flight of very steep stairs . You’re going to kill someone at this rate, Tom, and it has to stop.” Tord knelt down, taking a deep breath. When he continued, his tone was softer. “I will teach them self defense in their own time, when they’re ready to learn. Right now, they’re scared.”

“They should be.” Tom stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Fear keeps us alive.”

“They’re scared of you,  Tom. I asked why neither of them ever fight back, or stand up to you. Why they hesitate to even tell me how they were injured. And you know what Matt said?”

Tom shook his head.

“He said ‘he’ll hurt me even worse’.”

Tom looked up, eyes wide. “I won’t!”

Tord clicked his teeth. “Matt doesn’t know that.” Tom remained quiet, looking down with a pained expression. “Tom. Sometimes, being afraid is  something that can help you. But not here. There’s no need to be afraid when you’re surrounded by family, because family keeps us alive. You need to remember that Edd and Matt are your family too, and because you’re the toughest and the tallest, they look up to you. You can help them in other ways, you don’t need to put them in pain.”

Tom nodded, taking a shaky breath as he hunched forward a little to hide his face, thin shoulders rising. “I didn’t know...I thought...” He trailed off, sniffling softly.

It was so rare to see Tom cry, Tord was almost taken by surprise. He offered a small smile and rubbed Tom’s arm. “I know, I understand. Why don’t you go say sorry, and we’ll order pizza.”

Tom wiped his eyes, bottom lip still quivering. “H-how do I say sorry so they believe me?”

“Tell them you understand what you did wrong, apologise for doing it, and promise it won’t happen again.” Tord smoothed Tom’s bangs out of his face. “And what’s the rule on promises?”

“Don’t promise unless you mean it.” Tom said. He took a few slow breaths, calming himself down, and nodded. “Okay. I’m ready. Will you put the gun away for me?”

Tord smiled. “Of course. Go have a good time, while there’s still daylight.” He stood up as Tom left the shooting range, and picked up the gun cases with a hum. That had gone quite well. He jumped a little when a hand landed on his shoulder, and he immediately directed his scowl at the soldier beside him, who turned out to be one Paul Duluvics.

“That was real sweet, boss.” Paul said, smiling around the cigarette in his teeth. “You’re lucky it’s just me, or the others will think you’re soft.”

Tord smiled back at him, heavily sarcastic. “Thanks Paul, I’ll have to remember that the next time I have to remind you that when Mister Safety is not on, Mister Gun is not your friend."

Paul took his hand away with a wince, his face flushing. “Ah. Right. Sorry boss.”

“Dismissed, soldier. And order a few dozen pizzas while you’re out.”

Chapter Text

"You...you don’t mean that..." Matt trailed off, the bouquet of flowers in his hands suddenly feeling a lot heavier. “Do you?”

Tord ran his fingers through his hair, looking away. “I’m sorry, Matt. Truly. But I just don’t feel the same. Your attention is...sweet. But too much.” When the redhead before him stayed silent, eyes on the ground, Tord bit his lip. “You shouldn’t be here, it’s dangerous.”

Matt clutched the flowers closer to his chest, closing his eyes. “I-I know. I just...wanted to see you so badly...I didn’t care....”

“This is what I’m talking about, Matt. This is unhealthy.” Tord lightly rubbed his eyepatch, glancing behind him. “Duluvics!” He barked.

Paul stepped out of the office, and Patryk hurried around the corner. “Yes sir?” They asked together. Tord huffed and waved a hand.

“No, not both of you- or, actually, wait. Patryk, you come with me, you’re driving. Paul...you’re in charge. I’m going to run Matt home.”

The two glanced at each other briefly before saluting. “Return safely, sir.” Paul called. Tord ignored him in favor of pulling on his coat.

The car ride was quiet, save for the occasional sniffle, and the soft pip  sound that came with petals being tugged off a flower. When the silence became too much, Tord cleared his throat, prompting Matt to look up at him from across the car.

“Matt...you know I was just using you, don’t you?” He asked slowly. “For the robot.”

Matt nodded, and Tord felt the need to go on.

“How did you find me?”

Matt just sniffed again, shrugging weakly. Tord sighed.

“Then...if you don’t mind my asking...what made you like me? Of all people. You realize that you could probably get anyone else with how lovely you are, right?”

And Matt burst into tears.

“Oh no- Matt, calm down!” Tord said quickly, frantically moving to sit beside the ginger and pat him on the shoulder. “Did I say something wrong? Oh dear-” Oh fuck, he was bad at this. Shit! Why was he such an idiot? Poor Matt.

“N-nobody has ever ca-alled me lovely before!” Matt cried, voice cracking as fat tears rolled down his cheeks and dripped onto the pile of petals in his lap. “You w-were always so kind- a-and you never said anything mean to me-”

“I punched you  in the face!"  Tord cut in.

“But I know you didn’t mean it!” Matt grabbed his hand, raising his other arm to wipe his nose on his sleeve. “Y-you were just afraid I would find out!”

Tord sighed, patting Matt’s hand. “Hold on, Matt. Breathe for a moment, calm down. It’s okay.” He said gently, rubbing Matt’s knuckles until he could take a breath again without sobbing. “Better?”

Matt nodded.

“Listen to me...I was afraid you would find out, you’re right. I was supposed to go in, get the robot, and leave. No one was supposed to get hurt, especially you. I had already let go of my friendships with you all, there was nothing left but the greed to further my own ambition.”

“Then why were you so nice to me? Y-you stayed the same with Tim and Edd-”

“I couldn’t let anyone get suspicious.” Tord said firmly.

“Then you shouldn’t have come back at all!” Matt yanked his hand away, cradling it to his chest. “What was this!”

Tord furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “I...don’t understand.”

“If you let go of your feelings, why did you take my hand?!” Matt demanded.

Not about to admit to missing his friends, Tord shrugged. “You like it when people pet your hands. Don’t you?”

“Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why do I prefer if people touch my hands?” Matt asked, leaning closer. His voice cracked again, and he looked desperate.

“Relax." Tord urged, putting his hands up. “It was just because you don’t like having your face touched.”

Matt bit his lip. “Who’s my favorite in my novelty toy collection?”

Tord blinked. Oh. Oh.  “Matt, no. That’s enough, I can’t feed your obsession.”

“Who is it!” Matt grabbed his hands again, and Tord leaned away.

“It’s- it’s Little Tom; you got him at the fair. Tom blew it up but you fixed him.”

“What else?”

“Matt, I will stop this car if you don’t-”

“Tord, please!” Matt had tears in his eyes again, and he was so close Tord could feel his shaky breathing on his chin.

“Matt...why is this so important?” He asked softly, sitting up again. As he rose, he gently pushed Matt back with him, keeping him at the necessary distance of arm’s length, until he had to scoot back in his seat to maintain the space.

“I just...I want to feel nice again.” Matt looked down, the flowers now on the floor of the car. “Tim doesn’t like me. Edd doesn’t care about me, and frankly I don’t care for him either. But you...you’ve always been there. You know what I don’t like, and you know my favorite things and my special talents- you know me! You know who I am!”

“Matt...that’s what friends do. I did all that because we were friends."  Tord said gently. He let go of Matt’s hands, but the other only gripped his harder.

“But you didn’t just know- you cared!"  He cried. “A-and I tried to show you that I care too! We stayed up late and watched movies and we held each other in front of Edd even though you always liked him best- and it was so nice!  Don’t you want that?” He leaned closer, and Tord began to slip out of his seat, so he wouldn’t trap himself against the door as he backed up.

“I didn’t like Edd the best.” He said, trying to steer the conversation away from whatever was going on with him in Matt’s head. He could diffuse a bomb, but forget emotionally tense situations. He was a brilliant tactician and military leader, but when tears and feelings  were involved, he suddenly had the grace and tact of one of those fainting goats.

“You did! But then you came back, and I was so ready to make new memories with you, and they were all so wonderful, and I want more of them, don’t you?” Matt pressed, squeezing Tord’s hands. If the metal of his right hand hurt him, he didn’t show it on his face. “You could leave this army-” Tord’s real knuckles began to ache, but the only thing in his field of vision was Matt’s face as he pressed closer, following him as he backed up further, ass hitting the floor. “-or I could leave my apartment! We can be together!”

“I’m missing an eye, an arm, and half a face.” Tord tried, growing frantic as Matt knelt down before him, effectively pinning him to the floor of the car. “I’m hideous!” If he couldn’t reason with Matt logically, he’d have to appeal to his vanity. “Don’t you want to be with someone as pretty as you?”

“You think I’m pretty!” Matt let go of his hands and grabbed his jacket, pulling him closer. “This proves it! You love me! Just like I love-” he cut himself off with a choking sound, suddenly jerking backwards, and Tord looked up, thanking the stars when he saw Patryk standing outside the car, holding Matt by the back of his jacket collar.

“Sir?” Patryk asked, giving Matt a rough shake when he tried to pull himself away. “Are you alright?”

“Just fine, Duluvics.” Tord rubbed his chest, sitting up and shuffling out of the car. “Help me get him home, would you?”

Matt yelped as Patryk hoisted him over his shoulder, gripping the back of his jacket so he didn’t fall. “Tord!” He called, trying to peek around the tall soldier’s hip as he was carried into his apartment building. “Tord, wait!”

“Enough, Matt.”

“I- I don’t have the key to my apartment!” He said quickly, reaching for the elevator doors when they entered. His grip failed as the door slid closed with a terrifying air of finality. Patryk turned to face the door and Matt kicked at the door. “We’re locked out!” He laughed in a high tone, grabbing Patryk’s coat again so he wouldn’t tumble forward onto his face. “You have to take me back with you!”

Tord hummed. “You aren’t coming with me, so it looks as though your apartment isn’t the one we’ll be going to.”

Matt stilled. “Where, then?”

The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, and Patryk followed Tord out into the hall. “Let’s see what Tom will think when he finds out you were going to leave them for me."  He said, his tone heavy.

Matt immediately began to fight again, twisting and kicking and trying to work out of Patryk’s grip. “No! Let go of me!” He managed to roll off his shoulder and hit the ground with a thump, but he didn’t stop for breath before lunging back for the elevator- only to fall flat when a tight grip closed around his ankle. “Tord, I love you, doesn’t that mean anything to you?!” He cried, clawing at the carpet as he was dragged further from his escape.

Tord winced. “No.”

“H-how do you even know where we live?!” Matt asked, voice shrill as Patryk lifted him into his arms.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on you, just in case.” Tord said, stopping at the last door and banging his fist on it.

“You were stalking us?!”

“If that’s how you want to put it, yes.”

Matt reached out and grabbed his jacket. “Looks like we’ve got more in common than you think.”

The door jerked open, and Tom stood in shock for a moment. Before he could say anything, Matt came crashing into his arms, taking them both to the ground. “Keep him away from me.” Tord snarled, and slammed the door for him.

Then he turned away and walked briskly back towards the elevator, hands shoved deep into his pockets. He felt only shame. He didn’t need to treat Matt so harshly...he didn’t need to speak to Tom like Matt was nasty gum stuck to the bottom of his boot. It was cruel and unnecessary. He sighed, watching the elevator doors close and willing himself not to wonder what Tom and Edd were going to do.

“Duluvics.”

“Yes sir?”

“Have Paul ready plans to move the operation elsewhere. We will not be found out and intruded upon again.”

“Yes sir.”

Chapter Text

My voice sings through the void as beautiful and haunting as the infinite cosmos. The being said quietly, speaking slowly as they stared through the glass of Paul’s helmet. Only static came into his headset, an eerie moaning like the radio feedback from the planets themselves that the satellite from his roof at home sometimes picked up when he was a child, on dark nights. I wish I could show you.

“I wish that too.” Paul smiled wistfully, fingers intertwined with the creature before him. Growing up hard of hearing made lip reading a quick, easy task, and he was grateful for the skill. He didn’t know how many space creatures (mermaids, perhaps?) knew sign language, but he was willing to bet the answer was Not Many.

His tether from his ship had snapped, sending him drifting slowly away from his ship and crewmates, but no matter how he screamed, he only got static interference in return. Now his ship was out of sight. He had been in hysteric tears when he met the creature, whose lips spelled Patryk before his eyes. They took his hands and spun with him in a circle, singing and pulling him close to their body, cold even through his highly insulated suit, and wiped their fingers across the glass of his helmet, as though wiping away his tears. When they asked where he had come from, he could no longer tell which direction it had been. The best he could do was cling to Patryk and plead with them to help him find his ship again. As the much larger being, entire galaxies tiny and shimmering in their eyes and hair flowing and ever changing, like a nebula still forming, carried him through the blackness of space, they spoke to him. Comforted him.

You are beautiful too, human Paul. They told him, pressing their forehead to his helmet. I can feel your heart beating...I can feel the star matter that makes up your bones, your blood...you are a universe in and of yourself.

Paul felt himself go red in the face, at a loss for words. “You can tell all of that?” He asked softly.

Like I can tell when a new star is born, or an old one dies. I feel it deep inside...something changing, something enchanting. I want to be closer to you. Then you could feel it too. In yourself, and in me. I want to touch...to understand.

Paul was silent for a moment as he read Patryk’s lips, his chest warming. “I...I think I said the same thing when I decided to become an astronaut.”

Patryk smiled at him, and the warmth spread to his fingertips, his toes, through his veins and filling him with light. Paul smiled back.

What do humans do when they make an important decision?

Paul bit his tongue, unable to look away. “Well...we work hard. We put everything we have into reaching our goal, and we don’t give up.”

Patryk looked thoughtful, and they slipped their arms around Paul’s middle, bringing their bodies closer, and even the infinite cold that Patryk’s body couldn’t quell the heat in Paul’s heart.

I have decided that...I would like to kiss you, Paul.

Paul stared at Patryk’s lips, imagining them against his own. The cold would bite at first, but he wouldn’t mind. They would press closer, and it would be as he had dreamed for his entire life; he would be one with the universe, and the universe would be one with him. They would love each other unconditionally, and for as long as his mortal body lasted, exploring the cosmos and each other together, tender and sweet... And he would finally hear Patryk’s voice.

He felt a faint click through the gloves of his suit as he pried open the first safety latch that secured his helmet in place, and as he undid each latch, one by one, he did not notice the sharp teeth hiding behind Patryk’s smiling lips, or the frayed end of his safety tether, torn and ripped by something very sharp when he hadn’t been looking.

Chapter Text

“-and you're impossibly dreamy!”

“Enough, Matt.”

“I’m just saying! I’m practically living a fairytale! Or is a tail?” Matt grinned and held a little tighter to Tom’s shoulders for leverage as he lifted the end of his tail, nearly smacking Tom in the face.

“Matt! If we fall, you could get hurt, be more careful!” Tom scolded, struggling with his grip on Matt’s slick scales. The mermaid was very thin, and in theory should have been easy to carry, but Tom overestimated himself a bit, and the result was Matt clutching Tom’s shoulders with his tail wrapped around him twice- which still left enough room for the end of his tail to sort of flop in the breeze on their walk away from the shore.

“Sorry, sorry!” Matt said, falling still, but he still smiled in Tom’s peripheral vision, two rows of tiny, sharp teeth, evolved to bite through scales and thick leathery skin easily.

Years ago, Matt was washed up on shore, likely from the storms, and was much too far from water to drag himself back into the shallows on his own, though he tried. Tom had helped him, and Matt sort of...stuck around. He liked to visit with the human as often as possible, and together, the two decided it would be alright if Matt came to visit Tom’s house, since his roommate was out of town.

The trek was slow going for the unprepared Tom, who wore only a thin jacket in the night, and was on foot since he didn't have a car, but for Matt, every step was an adventure.

“Is that a seagull? It’s ugly.” Matt said, making them both wobble slightly as he pointed.

“Nope, that's an owl.” Tom said. “Seagulls are day birds.”

The owl stared with wide, yellow eyes as the two passed by its tree, and Matt made a face at it.

“Can we hurry?” He asked with a wet cough, and Tom shuddered as something damp ran down his neck. “I’m kind of sore.”

“We’re almost there, buddy.” Tom assured him, and, true to his word, he was soon struggling to unlock a door and let them into the house.

Kicking the door shut behind them and dropping his keys to free his hand, Tom quickly dumped Matt into the bathtub, which he’d filled before leaving home, and now-cold water splashed over the sides and soaked Tom even more.

Matt dunked his head under the water for a minute, watching through the water as Tom sat down on the counter. He rose up once more, his voice much clearer now that he was damp again, and tried to make himself comfortable in the cramped space. “So-” he let out a squawk as he slipped on the porcelain and fell back under the water.

Tom laughed, and reached out to ruffle Matt’s hair as he resurfaced. “You okay?”

“I think I bruised my pride.” Matt huffed, but he smiled anyway. He folded his arms and leaned on the edge of the tub, looking around the room. “So! This is your water room!”

“Bathroom,” Tom corrected, nodding. “We bathe in here, or shave or shit or whatever. Grooming stuff.”

“Fascinating!” Matt grinned. “What's that for?”

Tom picked up the cup by the sink, taking the toothbrush out. “It's a toothbrush. Gotta take care of my pearly whites, y’know?” He smiled, or perhaps grimaced, as he showed his teeth to Matt, who was nodding seriously.

“We tend to let smaller fish clean our teeth for us.” He said, showing off his own set of chompers. “That way they can eat, and we can keep our teeth clean. It's more of a social or bonding thing than a necessity, since we regrow teeth like days after losing one.”

“Like sharks?” Tom asked, filling his cup with water from the sink.

“Yeah! Except that, obviously, we're much prettier, and-” Matt cut himself off with a choking sound, before scrambling to raise himself up from the tub, tail thrashing and splashing more water from the tub. “No!” He cried, eyes wide in panic as he reached out for Tom, desperate to knock the cub from his hand, barely grabbing his leg before flopping to the floor and unintentionally yanking Tom down with him.

”M-Matt!” Tom sputtered, staring at the other in shock as he wrapped his arms around Tom’s waist.

“H-how could you?” Matt wailed, clinging tightly to his human. “You're going to drown, a-and then you'll be gone, and- and-” He sobbed loudly, his tears almost indiscernible from the water dripping from his hair.

Tom’s expression and voice were softer now, and he gently pushed the hair from the other's forehead. “Matt, what are you talking about?” He asked gently.

“H-humans can't take liquids like mers can-” Matt sniffed, looking up at Tom hopelessly. “Do- do you want to drown, Tom? What's wrong?”

Tom blinked. “Humans- I-I mean, yeah-” he laughed, cupping Matt's cheeks and brushing away his tears with his thumbs. “Matt, humans have to drink water to stay hydrated. We aren't breathing it, so we won't drown.”

Matt blinked slowly, realising that Tom was going to be fine, and began to turn red as he blushed. “O-oh. I...sorry. I just...I love you so much, and. I panicked.”

“I know.” Tom said, an amused smile quirking up the corner of his lips. “It was sweet of you. I love you too.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Matt's forehead. “How about I bring you some mackerel, huh?” He offered, and quickly decided that Matt's smile made the huge mess on the floor worth it.