Fade

Chapter 1: Ice

Description: Tom and Tord share a fair bit of history before they make their ways into Edd's life. Not all of it is bad, but not all of it is good. (Prequel story for the Tom/Tord relationship in the Monster Apartments AU)

A/N: If you haven't read 'More than You Bargained for' before this one, we recommend it! While this fic does take place chronologically before that one, MtYBf is best read with all the surprises!

...

"Everyone, on the ground and hands where I can see 'em!" Tord orders, his voice ringing through the bank with such a level of viciousness that a few passersby break into tears.

Automatically, all of the civilians inside start getting down, too afraid to step up against their enforcers. Tord smirks at the sight from behind his black mask, entire body quivering with excitement at their fear. "Very good… now nobody get any silly ideas about playing the hero. If no one acts up, then no one dies. Boys," Tord turns to his two accomplices, nodding at them. "Gather for me a generous donation from our audience… any jewelry or cash you find will do nicely."

The two men nod, and begin going to all of the civilians, collecting their valuables and money into burlap sacks. "Now that that's out of the way…" Tord trails off, turning, ready to address the bank's clerk, when he notices a civilian still standing. "Hey! You! On the ground!" He shouts, but the guy doesn't look up, not hearing Tord over the music coming from his earbuds. Tord groans, stomping over to the short man. He grabs ahold of the earbuds, yanking them out with a snarl. "I'm talking to you, asshole!" He shouts, now in the kid's ear, making him jump.

"Hey-" But he pauses, looking Tord up and down with icy blue eyes, before he snorts out a laugh, giving the bankrobber's claws, mask, and horns a funny look. "Isn't it a little early for halloween, dude?"

Tord snarls, trying to make himself look even taller- it's not really necessary, considering the fact that the asshole is already a shrimp compared to him. "Shut up," Tord finally orders, after his embarrassingly long pause. "You think you're hot shit, kid? You think you're funny?"

"Well," The kid starts, before he bursts into laughter upon seeing Paul and Patryk's masks. "Holy crap, what are they wearing!?" Both men have their usual get up on, which, unfortunately include cartoon-y wolf masks. "They look like fucking furries," He wheezes, glancing up at Tord, smirking at the horns on his head and at the tail behind him. "You kinda look like a furry too, now that I'm lookin' at ya."

Tord's entire face twitches in irritation. "Alright, wise-guy," The demon growls, grabbing ahold of the short fucker by the hair. In the background, he hears a woman begin to cry in sympathy for the kid. "What's your name?"

The guy hesitates, sneering through his pain at the masked demon. Tord takes his sidearm and holds it under his jaw, using it as a means of persuasion, and the kid swallows, before sighing. "It's Tom." He mutters, looking anywhere but at Tord.

"Well, Tommy," Tord curls out the nickname, internally grinning when Tom glares up at him in response. "It seems you really like to run your mouth, huh? Looks like you're the perfect person for this job..."

Tom's eyes widen in panic, before Tord steers him towards the front counter, slowly walking the kid over at gunpoint. "Now, Tom, you are going to ask the nice lady behind the counter for all of the money in the bank, okay?" He explains, patting Tom on the shoulder.

Tom actually sighs with relief, before he seems to settle and- shit, the way his shoulders tense but he has a forced relaxed expression… He's probably about to try something. Tom taps on the window separating him from the clerk. The poor girl behind the desk is shaking, but so long as she can still get the money, Tord doesn't much care how she feels. "Yeah, uh, hi," Tom mumbles to the girl, and Tord groans internally. He's gonna say something stupid, isn't he? "Can I get a dick taco?" Yep.

In one swift motion, Tord bangs the kid's head into the desk, making the woman scream in terror. With a fist holding Tom's hair, Tord pulls the kid back up, savoring the sight of blood leaking from the fucker's nose. "You see what happens when you're a shameless smartass? You get hurt. Now-"

"Boss!" Paul jogs over to Tord, a note of concern in his voice. "The police are here; someone must have made the call!"

"Dammit," Tord growls, before he glares down at Tom. "You hear that, kiddo? The police are on their way to save all these people. It's really too bad that you won't be here to see them," He quickly walks him over to Patryk. "Restrain him." He orders, handing Tom off to the wolf.

Patryk takes Tom from Tord, trying to keep the kid's struggles under control, but Tom is much more stubborn than he would've thought. "Knock him out." Tord hisses, after watching Patryk struggle to hold Tom still.

Without hesitation the wolf follows orders, clocking him in the back of the head with his gun. Tom slumps forward automatically, consciousness leaving him as he passes out. Swiftly, Patryk ties his arms behind him and throws Tom over his shoulder, giving him a soft pat on the back to make sure he's secure. Tord nods in approval and looks up at the ceiling, wings appearing and flapping as he smirks at the glass above his head. He motions Paul and Patryk over, and after they grab ahold of him, he takes off, crashing through the window and off into the daylight. Below, he can hear civilians and police officers gasping and screaming at the sight of him. It fills him with a lust for more.

Without a word, Tord takes off with his crew and hostage in tow, flying off to take shelter in one of the safe houses until this all blows over.

…

It doesn't take long for them to get to a good hideout. They end up settling at one of their places that's just outside the city. With all the valuables and cash they picked up during the heist, it would probably be best to lie low for a week or two.

As soon as the four of them land, Paul and Patryk efficiently work to unload all of their spoils, leaving Tord to deal with their unexpected hostage. Fuck, Tord thinks, looking down at the man in his arms. He's got a young face, but the way he held himself back there makes the Norwegian think he's probably older than he looks. Just barely 20? He silently curses himself for letting his temper get the better of him; they really didn't need to take a hostage today.

Tord sighs, bringing the limp body into the house. Paul and Patryk look up at his entrance, both moving to stand at attention as soon as they see their leader. "Lighten up, guys," Tord groans, shifting back into his human form as he steps inside so his wings don't fill the entire room. They both nod and return to their work, but Paul spares a quick glance at the unconscious man in his arms.

"Boss, if you don't mind me asking-" He starts, but he cuts himself off when he sees the glare Tord throws him.

"'Lighten up' isn't an invitation to question my authority," The demon hisses, and Patryk turns and creases his brow at the way he's speaking to his significant other. Tord rolls his eyes and sets Tom down in a chair at the dinner table, checking that his restraints are secure. He doesn't move to reprimand either of his men, instead opting to look over their food storage. Plenty for a couple weeks, but surely Paul will want to get some fresh meat and veg for proper meals.

Both wolves are looking at him, he can feel their eyes on his back and he hates it. He hates their concern. Patryk speaks up, and Tord barely tilts his head to acknowledge the Polish man. "Sir, you know I respect your authority," He says it almost like a question, so Tord nods, refusing to look either of them in the eyes. "We've never taken a hostage before. We're… worried this might not be the best course of action. What if his family or friends call?"

He nods, understanding their worry, but he can't bare himself to admit he made a mistake when he told them to grab the guy. Instead, he smiles wide, finally turning to face his friends. "And that's exactly what we want!" The two exchange confused glances but Tord doesn't falter. "If they call his phone we can ransom him off! A fellow who looks like this surely has a significant other, or at least a few people pining after him." Paul nods right away but Patryk hesitates a moment before agreeing.

Tord's smile widens, and he turns to Tom, still unconscious. "We can throw him in the basement; I can install some bars to make a sort of cell for him later tonight. It shouldn't take long," The demon internally pats himself on the back for his quick thinking. "You two can make sure he stays fed and healthy. If we want the most amount of money we can get for him we should keep him in top condition."

Paul smiles, putting his fingers up in salute. "Yes sir, Red Leader," He seems excited now, and Tord knows that if his tail was out it would be wagging. "Should I prepare dinner for all of us as soon as we finish post-heist maintenance?" The dogs both look at him expectantly and he nods. They really didn't have to ask to do anything, but they always did because of their stupid pack dynamics… How Tord defaulted to alpha, he'll never know.

"I'm going to get started on that cell," The demon throws a worried glance at Tom, who's still passed out and restrained. Had he moved? Tord eyes him suspiciously up and down. "Make sure you boys keep an eye on our guest here, though. As soon as he shows any sign of consciousness, I want to know." His men make affirmative grunts and he nods, descending into the basement to get the prisoner's new quarters ready.

…

It isn't a few hours later before Patryk is downstairs too, informing Tord that supper is almost finished. "Looks like there is still quite a bit you have to go on the cell. What should I do with the prisoner?" The leader hums in thought, wiping his work-worn hands on his pants.

"Leave him tied up at the table. We'll have our meal and if he wakes up we'll continue eating. Depending on how much sass he pulls, he can eat after us, or he can sit on the floor." Patryk nods and gives a quick 'yes, sir,' before heading back up.

Tord looks to his work nervously, doubt weighing on his shoulders. He's being brash, he knows it, and he's just digging himself deeper with this whole hostage thing. But, He grits his teeth when he thinks about how those icy blue eyes mocked him. I'm not about to let anyone think they have the better of me, especially in front of my men.

A little more working on the cell and the smells of Paul's finished meal begin drifting down in his workspace. Tord decides to take a break for now, setting down his tools and making his way upstairs after Patryk.

Paul is stirring a pot on the stove and fiddling with a hot pan at the same time, instructing the other wolf on how to set the table for him. When he spots Tord, though, he smiles and shuts off the stove burners. "Sir, would you mind getting silverware?" The demon nods his head and shuffles over to the proper drawer, glancing at their 'guest'.

He's still unconscious, so Tord only gets enough cutlery for him and his boys, setting them in their respective spots. The demon takes his seat at the head of the table, with a passed out Tom on his right and Patryk settling himself down just to the left of him. Paul doesn't seem perturbed that the prisoner is in his usual spot, and once he's got the meal in the middle for everyone to dig into he takes a seat next to his boyfriend.

Tord says a quick word of thanks to his friend for making the food, somehow managing to create a gourmet-level stew from the meager rations they had in stock. The trio sit in companionable silence, eating happily and taking a moment to relax after their long day.

The quiet is interrupted by a loud groan, though, as Tom comes to. Tord smiles brightly, refilling his bowl as he watches the restrained man squint up at him. "Look here, boys," He says it around the spoon in his mouth, delighting in Tom's obvious disapproval. "Somebody decided to finally wake up."

It's a good feeling, Tord decides, when you've got someone under your thumb. It takes but a moment for Tom to get out of the foggy-headedness and realize the situation he's in, eyes darting back and forth from his captors to the door and the room he's in. The smallest traces of panic come from his movements, and he flexes his shoulders against the rope that binds his arms.

"Ugh," The captured man grunts, stretching his back as if trying to get a kink out. Tord wouldn't be surprised if he was sore from being unconscious for the last few hours. A final huff, before he's leaning back in the chair and eyeing Tord with the same bored expression he had at the bank. "Well this fucking blows." He grumbles and Tord grins again, all toothy and giddy.

Both Paul and Patryk have been on edge as soon as Tom started moving, so Tord relaxes (hoping it'll get them to calm down) by pulling out a cigar and lighting it. The brunet glares at him, so he takes a long drag and blows it in his face, delighting in his displeasure from the smoke. "Maybe next time you'll know to not fuck with someone who has a gun to your head," Tom looks away, rolling his eyes, but Tord continues as if he didn't. "People who have guns in banks don't usually fuck around, you know."

"...Whatever," He shifts in his seat, ice-blue eyes turning to oggle the good smelling meal in front of him, corner of his lips quirking up. "So, if you guys are keeping me tied up like this, were you planning on feeding me?" Tord's grin falters. He could not figure out how, despite all the reasons to be afraid, that this 'Tom' can find his quick wit so easily.

It's not like the humans Tord knows.

He's about to chew his prisoner out for being so smart mouthed, but before he can get a word out, there's a knife pointed at him. That would explain a few things, he thinks, shifting a glare to Patryk. The werewolf avoids his gaze nervously, understanding his mistake in not checking their hostage for weapons.

"Okay," Tom grumbles, standing up and kicking his chair away. His eyes dart from Tord to his men as he speaks coldly. "We're gonna do this my way." Tord nods slowly, and even the slightest movements make Tom shift his eyes forward quickly to face him.

Tord smirks. "Okay." He drawls out, taking the cigar from his mouth and standing up, eyes trained on Tom the entire time. The smaller man brandishes the knife but Tord doesn't even flinch.

"Sit down, motherfucker." He hisses with venom, but Tord doesn't move, instead stepping forward into Tom's space, making the smaller step back. Tord hears Paul growl when Tom doesn't back down, but stops when Tord snaps his fingers together.

"Boys," He says calmly, gaze unwavering from Tom's. "It's fine; we're doing this his way." He takes his cigar and puts it out on his palm, smirk stretching when Tom's face pales. In mere seconds, the skin on Tord's hand seems to shimmer, fading to reveal black claws and scales.

Tom steps back, eyes wide and fearful. "What the fuck!" Out of terror, he lunges forward with his knife. Easily, Tord shifts his weight to the side and Tom's blade only swipes through air. Tord grabs hold of both of his arms, using his surprise to pull Tom into being restrained again. "What-" Tom gasps and struggles, shaking his entire body in an effort to get away. "Get off me!"

"Shouldn't have done that, kid," Tord laughs into his ear, holding him effortlessly with one hand and patting him down for any other concealed weapons with another. He comes back empty handed and spins Tom around, red eyes glowing brightly. The smaller man just stares up at them, trying violently to get away from his aggressor.

"Relax," His voice is sweet and calm, almost raspy, in a way. Tom's struggling slows down exponentially as Tord speaks. "Take it easy, will ya?" And almost instantly, Tom's out like a light, collapsing into the demon's arms.

The demon sighs, allowing himself a moment to hold the man in his arms, enjoying the light thrum of energy he gets from the physical contact. Paul and Patryk look at him with worry, but he simply shoots the pair a harsh look.

"How could both of you forget to check him for weapons?" At least both have the decency to look a little remorseful. Tord huffs and shifts back into his human appearance, shaking his head slightly when the familiar weight of horns is gone. Within moments he's got the sleeping man restrained again, and he's set him back in the chair. "I'm going to finish getting his cell set. Keep your eyes on him." His men nod and he descends back into the basement.

...

There's little complication for the next couple of days. The police force has all but stopped their fervent search for Tord and his boys, so they're able to go back out and get whatever essentials they may need with little worry. Their prisoner wasn't very communicative, or at least, he wasn't with Tord. Paul offhandedly mentioned he got Tom to talk a little bit about something or other, but Tom was flat out refusing to speak to Tord at all.

And if this weren't troubling enough, not a single phone call or text has been received on Tom's phone since he's been captured. Tord was able to figure out the password to the device after a fair bit of fiddling, and they'd been making sure to keep the cell charged the entire time. Despite always having someone nearby it, and making sure there would be no complications in answering the device should it ring, it stays silent the entire time.

It's only been a few days, though, so Tord surmises that Tom's family is probably attempting to contact the authorities first, before calling.

To top it all off, Tom hasn't shown any inclination that he understands what his captors are. He acts as if Tord never revealed his unnatural eyes or ebony black horns and claws; it's likely that due to him being put under, he may not remember all of what happened after he pulled the knife, or he might be pushing the idea of the supernatural away. A lot of humans seemed to do this as some sort of defense mechanism, but Tord couldn't wrap his head around it.

Not as if it really mattered to Tord; it just made certain situations or interactions with the man much more irritating. The full moon was fast approaching, and with it, Paul and Patryk would be gone for about three days, leaving Tord alone with the hostage. To say he wasn't looking forward to it was an understatement.

"Red Leader," Paul addresses him while he writes down a few things he intends on packing for their trip. "I'm sure everything in regards to the prisoner will be fine. Just," He waves his hand in a vague hand gesture. "Y'know?"

Tord huffs, leaning against the doorway while the werewolves commence their final preparations for the full moon. "No, I do not 'know'," He mimics the Dutch accent of his friend, only slightly different form his Norwegian one. "I don't know why he seems to like you two so much more than me," Patryk comes in from outside, giving Tord a funny look. "What?"

"Nothing, sir," The taller man grins. "It just might have something to do with how you were the one who kidnapped him in the first place." Paul tries to keep a straight face but has to turn away to hide his grin. Tord pouts and narrows his eyes at the wolves.

"Whatever," He grumbles, and looks down at his feet. A quick glance of concern is shared between the other two and they silently shift into their wolf forms, walking up to their leader and licking at his hands, whimpering in consolement. Tord fights to keep the pout on his face but fails. He twiddles his fingers through their soft fur and smiles a little nervously. "Do you guys really have to leave?"

Paul looks up at him sadly and licks his hands once more. Tord sighs and doesn't force them to answer, knowing that they'll stay with him if he really wants them to, but knowing also that these trips mean so much to them.

"It's fine, guys." He promises, scratching under their chins thoughtfully. Pat and Paul both press their fluffy bodies against his legs, putting their weight on him in an attempt to console him.

Paul and Patryk stay with Tord for a while longer, before they both linger off to continue preparing for their trip, staying either in full-shift or half-shift at all times; whether it's because of the upcoming full moon or the tension, Tord isn't sure. With a sigh, the demon stands up, feeling unsure as he glances at the door leading to the basement. Making up his mind, Tord exits the kitchen through the oak door, footsteps quiet as he makes his way downstairs. Tom is wide awake in bed, the scent of sweat strong in the room. Tord wrinkles his nose at the smell, finding it unnerving; why is Tom sweating down here? It's not even warm!

"Ey, knucklehead," Tord's voice is gruff as he addresses Tom. "Get your ass up. We need to talk."

Tom spares Tord a sour glance, looking unimpressed with the demon's presence. Reluctantly, the prisoner stands, leaving his bed behind as he leans on one of the cell's walls, giving him a look that could rival a fucking teenager. It irritates Tord to no end. "I know you're not going to bother talking to me, so I'll skip the small talk; Paul and Patryk are leaving for a few days," That makes Tom's eyes widen, a flash of fear on his face at the news. "Ey, I'll still be here, dumbass. We're not leaving you to rot. It will just be us for a weekend, alright?"

Tom only shrugs, still refusing to reply verbally to Tord. "Anything to say? Even some backtalk?" Tord prods, eager to get Tom talking. He REALLY doesn't want to spend his weekend in silence, or else he'll die of boredom.

The prisoner, again, looks ready to stay silent. However, his eyes linger on Tord's T-shirt, appearing… curious. "You like San Fermin?" He asks, pointing at Tord's band T-shirt.

Tord blinks, before glancing down at his shirt. It's one he got from an old friend, the design being a jackrabbit with it's head cut off. "I've listened to some of their songs, yes. Do you… like music?" He's a little nervous now to speak to Tom; one wrong move and he'll have Tom back to giving him the silent treatment.

However, it seems that Tord's spoken correctly, because for a moment, Tom's eyes light up. He's quick to cover it, but the young man fully facing Tord as he begins to speak again. "Yes! Who doesn't? I'm more of a rock sorta guy, but gosh, you should hear some of the tunes from these guys if you like San Fermin,"

And Tord stands there for a while, just listening to Tom talk about music, but eventually he finds himself sitting on the cold floor next to the cell. Hell, Tord even uses his phone a few times to play some of Tom's suggests tunes, and yeah, the kid has good taste alright. It's nice, Tord thinks, once Tom has tired himself out and excused himself for the night. It's nice to talk to someone who won't hesitate to say what's on their mind to him. While Paul and Patryk are good company, they're also extremely polite with him, making smalltalk more awkward than Tord would like. But with Tom, talking is easy. It's almost… comforting.

Tord sighs, shrugging it off. He can't start liking the prisoner; within a few weeks, he'll be ransomed off to his loved ones or his friends, and Tord will never see him again. It will be better, at that point, Tord tells himself… it will be better than getting attached.

…

A knock at the door later that night surprises Tord. He wasn't expecting anyone, and it's still another night before the full moon, so Paul and Patryk are likely not returning home so soon. "Coming!" He says anyways, moving the pan he was stirring off the burner and turning the stove off. When he opens the door, though, he's greeted with a fist that sends him towards the ground.

"Well, if it isn't good ol' Tordy!" The voice calls and he groans, peeling himself off the kitchen floor enough to sit up. "All by yourself tonight?"

Tord puts a hand up to smear the blood off his nose. He glares up at his aggressor and finds that, while it's pretty obvious that this is another demon, he has no idea who she personally is. "Sorry, but who the fuck are you?"

Bitchface creases her brow at the lack of fear in his face and bares her sharp teeth. "I suppose it doesn't really matter who I am, but... " She trails off and gestures to her back, smiling down at the Incubus when he grimaces. "Whelps like you ought not to be far from home." Tord simply rolls his eyes.

"Still not scared?" her hands and forehead shimmer, revealing her horns and claws. "We can fix that." She lunges forward with claws and sharp horns angled forward, but Tord scrambles out of the way just in time as she lands and sticks her horns straight through the linoleum. She hisses and pulls herself out effortlessly.

"If this is about McShit Lord himself, he can fuck right off." Tord shouts and backs up towards the stove, allowing his own claws and horns to become present. The other demon just laughs, standing up at her full height, towering a good handful of inches over Tord.

"It's going to happen eventually," Tord shakes his head and she advances, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. Despite him clawing at her arms she doesn't even flinch, instead smirking when she pulls him up off the ground to meet her gaze. "They're going to drag you back down to Hell no matter how bad you want to stay. And do you know why? Because you're nothing but your rank and title. You're nothing but a shitty little Incubus that can't even do what he was made for-"

Tord's had it. He lets out a loud screech, using the strength that the physical contact with her gives him to kick at her stomach and knock all the wind out of her. Her hold on him loosens and when he lands on the ground he reaches back and grabs the hot pan from the stove, ignoring the food that falls to the floor as he smashes the hot metal against her face.

She shouts, humane voice turning into something warped and animalistic as she shifts her body into a full demon form. Her face is replaced with a long, angular skull and three pairs of horns extend like a crown around her head. An extra pair of arms sprout from her sides as her body warps and she lets out a long, throaty laugh.

Tord's about to shift too, but a loud crack from the basement makes him freeze. The demon doesn't miss it, extending her long neck to try and see down the stairwell. She turns back, smiling wickedly at the Incubus before charging down to the basement in search of Tom.

"No!" Tord shouts, shifting into his full form and smashing his wings against the walls as he rushes forward. He grabs one of her legs and yanks it towards him, biting down hard on her neck when she's underneath him. She screams, though it's so guttural it doesn't even sound close to human.

Tom's voice is muffled through the door to the basement but he's shouting, asking questions and calling out. Tord would attempt to calm him down, but his maw is currently preoccupied with biting the shit out of this bitch.

She attempts to roll him, but he uses his wings and tail to keep them where they are on the ground and eventually her screams turn to whimpers and yelps. A quick shift of his wings and arms and he throws himself over her head, landing in front of the door and looking her down, red orbs in his eye sockets unwavering.

"Get. Out." He growls, and she whimpers, dragging herself out the door with a limp. Tord stays where he is and attempts to calm himself, but when Tom's shuffling picks back up on the other side he shakes himself back down to his human form. Just in time apparently, because Tom throws the door open right behind him.

"Tord!" He exclaims, not expecting to see the man on the other side. The Norwegian is breathing heavily, and he's sure he looks like a mess. What, with his bloody nose and scratches all up and down his arms from the scuffle.

"What are you doing out of your cell?" He doesn't bother to put any venom into it, instead leaning his weight against the wall beside him, since that's way easier than standing right now. Tom's mouth gapes for a moment, taking in the demon's appearance as he struggles to think of an excuse.

"Jeez, you look like shit," Tord's brow creases in annoyance, but Tom continues, "What happened? I heard screaming and a lot of thumping." It's the first time Tord's seen the human look genuinely concerned. His hand extends to touch a particularly bad cut on his face, but Tord leans away, not wanting to give in to his desire for physical contact. He'll be fine after a few hours, he just needs to calm down and-

Tom is really close, all of a sudden, and there's no more room to back up without heading up the stairs. "Dinner," He says dumbly, and Tom raises an eyebrow. "I dropped a pan, uh. On my face, so, dinner might take a while to get ready." The raised eyebrow becomes a severely unimpressed look. Tom sighs through his nose and rolls his eyes.

"Whatever." He grumbles, and storms back towards his cell. It doesn't take long before Tord is following him. The cell door has been picked open, a couple of broken bobby pins sitting on the floor around it. Tom goes and just sits on his bed, crossing his arms and glaring at Tord.

Tord narrows his own eyes. "Where'd you get the bobby pins?" Tom shrugs and the Norwegian hisses, annoyed that he's back to square one with the human. He hates that he can't get those concerned eyes out of his head, even when he climbs the stairs and gets himself back to making supper.

…

It's a few days before Paul and Pat get back, finally. Tom and Tord have hardly spoken since that first day, and Tord has had to walk around the house with bandages on his face and around his side. He's very rarely had to live with physical pain without almost immediate healing, so it was more than a little uncomfortable.

The Norwegian did his best to patch up the kitchen, after his brawl with the bitch that came in and acted like she owns the place. The hole in the linoleum is a little hard to cover up, though, so when the werewolves return and are gathered around the dent, Tord does his best to seem sheepish.

"Sir," Patryk starts, looking at the crack remorsefully. "What exactly happened to my floor?" Tord scratches the back of his neck nervously.

"Well, you see-" But Paul cuts him off with a small gasp, upon the wolf seeing his face.

He drops his bags and hops up the two steps leading into the dining area. "What happened?" He whimpers, and immediately looks downstairs, towards Tom's quarters.

Patryk is almost immediately at his side as well, cupping Tord's face to examine the cuts. Tord leans into the contact with a small sigh, appreciating greatly the energy he receives from it.

"It wasn't Tom or anything. Just," He waves his hands a little. "Some asshole of a demon came in here acting like she owned the place. Just had to teach her a lesson." Paul is whimpering again and Tord laughs. "I've had worse, you know?"

Both wolves nod but their concern still shows through their words. Patryk speaks up. "Does Tom know what happened? Does he know you're a demon?" Tord shakes his head.

"I don't think so. Unless he knows from before, when I knocked him out, I don't think he knows exactly. He seems suspicious of me, though," He sighs, still upset that Tom refuses to be civil with him.

"Leader," Pat soothes, lightly tapping the Norwegian's back in an attempt to calm him. "You can't expect him to open up if you keep him locked up like he is." Tord nods, though he doesn't respond.

This hostage thing got way out of hand.

...

It's been a few weeks since Tom's been with them, now, and still, nobody has called. Tord finds himself staring anxiously at the offending piece of technology, willing it to just ring and get this whole thing over with. The way that Paul constantly visits the brunet and the way Patryk is always going out of his way to make his cell more comfortable or to help him out… it's going to make things hard to let him go if Tom's folks don't get him soon.

Tord's looked at the same contacts in the phone over and over again, but they all read off as hospitals or doctors, and those were people with too many resources: if they called for Tom it was probably going to end badly for Tord and his boys.

"Paul," He hisses in the middle of the night, when the werewolf is heading down to give Tom his supper. The Dutchman turns to him, questioningly, and Tord thrusts the phone in his hands. "I need you to figure out why Tom's friends and family haven't called. We can't…" He heaves a breath through his nose in embarrassment. "We can't keep doing this." He finally admits.

This is his mistake. If he hadn't been so brash, so reckless- Tom wouldn't be in this fucked up situation, and neither would his wolves. This was as bad for them as everybody else involved.

Paul nods, understanding and smiling wide at the Norwegian in hopes of reassuring him.

Tord watches from the stairwell as Paul walks down into the basement, Tom's phone held tight in his palm. The werewolf pauses in front of the small man's cell, giving Tord a chance to stare past him at the young figure. Tom's sprawled out on his bed, looking for the life of him like a corpse, with dark bags under his eyes and a sickness about him that makes Tord's insides twist in discomfort. Paul knocks on one of the bars of the cell, prompting Tom to look up. Thankfully, he doesn't notice Tord hiding in the stairwell as he crawls out of the bed, coming over to stand in front of Paul, movements wobbly and tired.

"You look sick," Paul comments, giving Tom a surprised look. Tom doesn't answer so Paul holds up his phone, facing the screen towards the captive. "Tom, why hasn't your family called your phone yet? It's been three weeks."

Tom stiffens, and Tord subconsciously leans forward, trying to catch every word that Tom will utter. Said brunet looks away from Paul, appearing upset. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it." Tom orders, body stiff.

Paul reaches out, before pausing and withdrawing his hand. "Tom, there has to be a reason," He continues, trying to get an answer out of the short man. "I'm sure your parents-"

"-Don't even know I exist," Tom finishes, glaring up at Paul, eyes bloodshot and glassy from unshed tears. "No one's called because I have no one. I grew up in the system, dumbass. No one cares about where I am," He starts shaking slightly, taking a seat on the floor to steady himself, voice wavering. "No one will care when Thomas Ridgewell drops dead…"

Tord sighs internally; no wonder no one has called. Meanwhile, Paul squirms in front of the cell, before stiffening and apparently coming to a decision. With assured movements, Paul unlocks the cell door and, very cautiously, walks inside. Looking unsure now, Paul crouches by Tom, seemingly uncomfortable as the brunet cries beside him. The werewolf carefully reaches out, and ever so delicately, wraps his arms around Tom, pulling the short man closer until Paul backs up into the nearest wall, hugging Tom against himself. The taller man stays like that with Tom for a long time, patting his back and petting his hair.

"Daar daar," Paul murmurs in Dutch, nuzzling Tom's hair a little as the younger man sobs, finally breaking under all the stress and confusion. "Maak je geen zorgen , ik ben hier."

Tom nods, although Tord suspects that he has no idea what Paul's saying. He knows he, himself, doesn't, since the only language all three of the robbers share is Russian, but he can fairly easily imagine. Tord watches for a little longer, before he reluctantly trudges off, leaving Paul to comfort Tom until he can calm down. He does not need to be getting soft… but Tom is making that very difficult.

…

"What's he doing out of his cell?"

Tord looks up as Patryk addresses Paul, raising an eyebrow when he sees that the tall man has decided to bring Tom upstairs. Tord eyes the younger man's movements, noting how Tom lingers close to Paul's side, as if afraid that Tord or Patryk will jump him otherwise. Clever, Paul- Tord thinks as he watches Tom stick close to the werewolf- use the kid's fear to your advantage to keep him from running. Of course, knowing Paul, Tord assumes he's trying to make him feel safe, instead of being manipulative. Tord is knocked out of his thoughts when Paul grunts, shrugging as he steers Tom towards the dinner table.

Patryk raises an eyebrow at Paul's grunt, giving Tord a curious look, looking to see if the demon will do anything about it. Tord simply shrugs when all eyes are on him, pretending to be more focused on his newspaper. "Just keep an eye on him. I don't want him running away." He deadpans, tone business-like and authoritative.

Paul smirks, and Tord hides his own behind his newspaper. Meanwhile, Tom ducks his head and sits down at the table, scooting his chair away from Tord. Tord rolls his eyes, but otherwise doesn't make a move to intervene; so long as Tom doesn't run, he doesn't care where the fucker sits. Shaking just a bit, Tom curls in on himself slightly, rubbing his arms frantically while Paul cooks dinner a few feet away, the young human's eyes flashing between Tord and the werewolf in fear.

"Easy, kid," Tord orders once Tom's shaking has begun to worry him. "I won't bite." He adds the last bit with a smirk, flashing his sharp canines at his prisoner.

Under the table, a different kind of canine kicks Tord hard in the shin. Tord stiffens, hissing under his breath before glaring across the table at Patryk, the wolf mouthing a stern 'Будьте вежливы'. Tord huffs, ignoring Tom's snicker beside him.

Before Tord can really complain though, Paul sets down a plate in front of the monster. Tord blinks, glancing down at his plate curiously- meatloaf. Aware of Tom's eyes on him, Tord begins eating, noticing how confused Tom looks; the poor kid doesn't understand pack rules. The leader always eats before the pack- Tord usually wouldn't do that, but it makes Paul and Patryk a bit more comfortable.

Tord eats quickly, before he finishes and nods to Paul and Patryk. At once, Paul gets up and passes out three more full plates, before taking a seat beside Patryk again. Tom squirms in his seat, possibly out of discomfort, before he takes a few butterfly worthy bites at the food. His face twists in either disgust or fear as he eats, looking anywhere but at Paul, Patryk, and Tord. Tord raises an eyebrow when Tom suddenly pushes his full plate away, the captive pretending to appear overly full.

"Oh wow, guys. That was great," Tom assures, his tone retaking it's usual comfortable deadpan that simultaneously annoys and interests Tord. "I'm stuffed, man… couldn't eat another bite."

"You've hardly touched your meal," Tord comments, although it sounds more like an order as he puts both hands on the table, feeling smoke smoldering underneath his skin in anger. "You're skinny enough as it is… eat."

Tom's eyes are full of defiance as he glares up at Tord, ocean blue eyes shining with an unexpected frustration. "Don't you get it? I'm not hungry!" He snaps, angry.

Tord stiffens in surprise at the challenge when Paul steps in. "You should listen to Red Leader, Thomas," He says, tone soft and kind; he's trying to play Good Cop here. "Surely you must have room for more."

Tom stands, furious and misunderstood. "I'm not hungry, goddammit!" He shouts, before stomping downstairs and back to his cell.

Tord sighs deeply, shaking his head. "I've got this," He assures, and when he recieves a look of concern from the couple upon standing up, he rolls his eyes in annoyance. "I am not going to hurt him. For the love of God, I am only meaning to understand what the problem is."

Paul and Patryk still look doubtful, but Tord ignores them in favor of going after Tom. Tom's on his bed in his cell, hiding under his blanket when Tord arrives. Sighing, Tord yanks the blanket off, ignoring Tom's fearful look. However, Tom's expression soon contorts to one of a rebel, his fury knowing no bounds as he refuses Tord's eyes to even a sliver of fear.

Without a word, Tord plops down on the bed beside Tom, ignoring the kid's angry glares. It makes Tord want to roll his eyes and laugh- Tom acts like a newborn not getting his way. Upset and uncomfortable, Tom refuses to face Tord, scooting away from the man.

Tord doesn't use any magic tricks this time. "What's wrong, kiddo?" He asks, voice calm and collected as he addresses the younger man.

Tom scowls, looking away. Impatient, Tord grabs Tom's shoulder. "Thomas," Tord's voice is stern, but there's a softness about him that he hopes Tom will understand and see that he won't hurt him for being honest. "Tell me what's wrong. Are you sick?"

Tom squirms, but he doesn't pull away- Tord can feel Tom's exhales on his thumb's knuckle, making him shiver. "I… I'm not okay…" Tom admits after a long pause, looking unsure. When Tord nods for him to continue, he does. "Look, dude, it's… I have some meds I need, okay? They're…" He stops again, opting to look at the floor instead of Tord. There's a soft creak of the bed, and Tord is gone

...

He shouldn't even be doing this… it's not like Tord needs to get Tom's medication, but… He shakes his head, ridding himself of stupid thoughts and growling under his breath as he continues driving towards the address Paul gave him. His place is in the lower districts of the city, it being a small, cheap flat the kid rented out a few months back. Tord finds the meager shack quickly enough, scowling when he sees the disrepair the building is in. Sighing, Tord hops out of his car and walks into the building, using the key they got off Tom to get in once he reaches it.

Immediately, Tord is greeted by an overexcited dog jumping up at him and barking playfully. It's a Corgi mix, with a brown and white coloring, to be specific. Tord stiffens, looking the animal over in surprise; Tom hadn't mentioned owning a dog, especially not one as cute as this one. Despite his shock, Tord leans down and smiles, bringing the playful pup up into his arms as he makes to check out Tom's flat.

The room just past the threshold looks like it's supposed to be a kitchen, although the only hint to this is the refrigerator in the corner and the sink right next to it, since there's no stove or tables. A few bags of assorted food have been torn open and devoured messily on the floor, but thankfully (from what he can see) the dog managed to get outside to do its business through the open window just over the sink. The dog wiggles in his arms, so he sets it down and gives it a small pat on its head, then goes looking around the rest of the building.

There are only three other rooms- a bedroom, a bathroom, and a closet. Settling on the bedroom first, Tord swings the door open, smiling at Tom's dog as it follows him through the apartment. The bedroom is actually pretty clean, compared to the rest of the flat. There's a small bed with simple bedsheets in the corner, and a beaten old guitar lying on it, just waiting to be played. Stepping inside, Tord heads to Tom's nightstand first, opening it and digging inside; jackpot. There's a few pill bottles and medical boxes inside, and Tord reads the labels carefully, trying to find which ones Tom needs to be healthy.

A slightly larger than palm-sized box reads off as a compound of chemicals, 'Testosterone Propionate, Testosterone Phenylpropionate, Testosterone…' A sudden hit of realization hits Tord like a truck. This explained the lethargy, the nausea, the cold sweats: all the symptoms Paul and Patryk told him Tom was experiencing. They were all due to Testosterone withdrawal. Tord grits his teeth in frustration, furious that Tom hadn't stressed how important it was that he got his meds earlier. He throws the box in his bag, as well as all the other accessories needed to administer the injection.

A couple bottles read off as anti-depression and anti-anxiety prescriptions, and as he bags all the transitional medication he grabs those, too. He's about to leave the bedroom with his new-found urgency, but as he heads out something catches his eye. Just barely covered by the pillow on his bed is a small, brown teddy bear. It's sort of weird, in Tord's opinion, since it has a unibrow instead of eyes and spiked up hair. Shrugging, Tord shoves the stuffie into his bag, too. May as well bring it along.

With that settled, Tord turns around to stare down at Tom's dog. Kneeling in front of the canine, Tord lightly scratches behind its ears, and when it rolls over onto its back and exposes its soft belly, Tord curses his own softness. Without much effort, Tord picks the pooch up and takes it with him out of the apartment.

Once he's back to his car, Tord puts the dog into the passenger seat, smiling as the canine curls up in the seat and wags its tail happily. Without further delay, Tord hops into the driver's seat, and with one last look at the apartment complex, he drives back to the hideout.

…

"A dog!"

Tord rolls his eyes as Paul and Patryk get into his shit, both wolves shifting at once upon seeing the corgi in his arms. With a sigh of irritation, Tord sets the wiggling canine on the floor, allowing his boys to sniff at the animal with curiosity. The corgi doesn't budge, seemingly unaffected by the prodding. Unimpressed by his men's embarrassing display, Tord carefully steps over the canines, avoiding wagging tails and playful paws as he heads for the basement. As soon as Tord opens the door, he's assaulted by the strong scent of sickness that Tom's been radiating these last few weeks.

Well, at least now Tord can put a stop to it. Holding onto the railing, Tord strolls downstairs with little to no problem, his eyes soon finding Tom. The poor guy looks miserable; only his face shows from under a mountain of blankets- they're more than likely Paul and Patryk's doing- while his hair is a tangled, spiky mess on his head, dipping slightly from sweat. Tord refuses to make any obvious comments as he faces Tom's cell, the small man inside looking pitiful in front of the older demon. Knowing that Tord won't come in first, Tom struggles from under his blankets, soon standing with one of the quilts tucked around his fraile form.

"Hey," Tom groans, voice groggy and tired. "What's up, man?" He rubs at his eyes obsessively, something that catches Tord's eye, forcing the demon to look into those icy blue orbs. It makes his skin heat up and his wings want to flutter in satisfaction.

Tord keeps a handle on it, though. He busies himself with kneeling on the floor and unpacking the backpack, starting with Tom's medicine. At once, Tom's wide-awake and alert, even trying to reach through the bars and make a grab for his meds. Biting back a snicker of amusement, Tord smacks Tom's hand away, tisking under his breath at the human's behavior. Once Tom has settled, he returns to unpacking the bag, hesitating as he fists the teddy bear, the object still hidden from Tom's view. It's softer than Tord first noticed- and small, about Beanie Baby sized. But it has a comforting feel about it… Tord nods to himself, pulling out the bear.

Tord can feel Tom's heartbeat rise, his eyes widening in surprise. "Tomme Bear!" Tom shouts, overly excited as he stares at the stuffed animal.

This causes Tord to pause. Tomme Bear? He almost laughs, but instead, he puts on a nonchalant smirk and holds the bear out from between the bars. At once, Tom has a hold on the stuffie, his fingers brushing against the back of Tord's hand. The demon shivers, the contact putting him off kilter, his body wanting nothing more than to hug Tom close. But again, Tord refuses the need, instead deciding to smile warmly as Tom hugs his bear close, reveling in the comfort it brings him. It makes Tord feel… good. Not cuddle-good or after-a-heist good. It's… something else.

It's not something too new to Tord, but it's still uncommon. It's a feeling he gets when he visits Matt and the other monsters at the apartment building in London, or when he helps a fellow lower-ranked demon get away from one of the higher ups. Tord revels in the feeling, enjoying it for what it is. As Tord snaps out of it, he notices Tom once again trying to get at his medication. Faster than the lanky, short human, Tord catches Tom by his wrist, biting back the warm pulse of energy at the skin-on-skin feeling burning in his bones. Gritting his teeth, Tord spares Tom an annoyed glare, unimpressed by his sneaking.

"You need to get a shower first," Tord explains, unintentionally rubbing his thumb against the back of Tom's wrist, feeling the human shiver in response. "You smell like shit and you can't be clean; taking your meds when you're gross could be bad for you."

Tom shrugs, but nods his head. "I guess." He mumbles, standing himself up on shaky legs.

Tord stands with him, putting a steadying hand on the small of his back. "Can you make it up there on your own?" Tom nods but stumbles a bit, so Tord walks with him anyway. They climb the stairs slowly, taking it one step at a time in case Tom loses his balance. The house is quiet, and Tord assumes the wolves took the dog outside to play.

When they finally make it to the shower, Tord leaves Tom in the restroom, promising to return soon with a change of clothes and a towel.

When he returns, the water is on full blast and steam is pouring out from underneath the door, smelling like some kind of scented shampoo. Tord sits himself down against the wall and sighs, tugging his legs into his hoodie.

If he had realized what exactly Tom was going through, maybe he would have helped him sooner. Honestly, though, if he was fucked up enough to take someone hostage, Tord thinks to himself. It isn't long before the water cuts off and Tom knocks on the door. "Tord?"

Wordlessly, the demon cracks the door open from where he's sitting and slides the clothes in, making sure to give Tom his privacy. A few moments of silence are shared as Tom gets himself dressed and Tord sits outside, fiddling with his hoodie anxiously.

"I'm sorry," He says to the closed door. The shuffling on the other side stops, so he continues. "This is really fucked up." He puts his head against his knees and sighs. The door creaks open slowly and Tord looks up, sad, red eyes staring into Tom's serene blue ones.

Tom kicks him in the side without warning, though it's not too hard. "Jackass," He mutters, though he's got a half smile on. "Can I take my T now?"

Tord nods and pushes the kit over, thankful he brought it upstairs with the clothes. "Do you need help taking it?" But Tom shakes his head.

"I've been taking T for a few years, now," He shuffles back into the bathroom and fiddles with the boxes. His hands are shaky and he struggles to open the packaging. "Fuck."

The demon is at his side quickly, opening the box and pulling out the needles, looking to Tom for instruction. The human sighs but accepts the assistance. "Use this needle to get the Testosterone out," He points to one, then another. "This one is for the injection. I can inject myself but I need your help getting the meds out."

The Norwegian does as the brunet orders. "That's too much," Tom comments, making Tord stiffen, but nonetheless empty some back into the bottle until Tom hums in acceptance. "That's better."

Tom takes the needle and rolls up one of the legs on his shorts, administering the injection quickly and accepting the disinfectant wipe that's held out to him with a small 'thanks'.

Tord pats Tom's arm, the brunet quickly fixing his shorts. "Who's my brave little soldier, hm?" He keeps speaking, trying to simultaneously tease and comfort Tom in the aftermath of the injection.

"Fuck off." Tom growls out, but Tord can feel how grateful the kid is. In a few days- with regular injections- Tom should be back to being his usual sarcastic self, now without the hot flashes and the lethargy.

Tord stands, ready to leave, when he hears a bark from outside. He pauses, smiling as he turns to look at Tom again. "Oh, yes, I almost forgot… I took the liberty of bringing your pooch back, too! You're welcome." He states, ready for Tom to praise him for doing such a noble, kind, selfless-

"-What dog?" Tom asks, giving Tord the most confused look he's ever seen. "I don't have a dog."

Well fuck.

…

After a few more confused questions and answers, Tord discovers that Tom does not own a dog, has never owned a dog, but low-key really wants a dog. And, considering that the corgi doesn't have a nametag or a collar… Well, fuck the losers who lost him. He's Tom's (And the gang's) dog now.

They name him Hamilton.

…

Tom doesn't end up going back to the cell after that. He's allowed to roam the house, but until the criminals decide on what to do with him, he's essentially stuck there.

"I don't see why we can't just let him go back to his home." Patryk offers, but gets two different expressions from Paul and Tord. The demon knows that Paul got too attached to the small man, after spending so many hours talking with him and taking care of him. Tord won't admit that he also got used to seeing Tom around the house, so he puts up the guise that he doesn't want the human to rat them out.

"He could know about what we are," Tord hisses, narrowing his eyes at the brunet, who is currently sleeping on the couch. "We still have no idea if he knows. Not to mention, he could drop hints to the police as to who we are, in terms of the bank robberies. He could blow both of our covers, if he wanted."

Patryk sighs. "You seem quite eager to keep him around, Leader." Tord stiffens, then looks away. As much as he bragged about being able to read people like books, he hates how hard it is for him to mask his own emotions.

Paul laughs lightly at his commander. "He has a point, sir. Although," He turns to his boyfriend and huffs. "I would prefer to keep Tom around as well. He could be of use to us, and I have grown fond of him."

"What do you mean he could be 'of use to us'?" Tord questions. Patryk makes a vague hand gesture instead of Paul answering.

"He adds a dynamic we don't really have. Not to mention, we've been needing more people for bigger heists." The other wolf nods enthusiastically, and Tord creases his brow in thought.

They had been discussing the thought of adding someone to their team. The idea of it being Tom, though. He's about to question it before Paul butts in.

"It's clear that Tom is level headed; when we robbed that bank he hardly flinched at your appearance and the gun you held to his face. Plus," Paul takes a puff of his cigarette and pulls out a knife from his back pocket. "He did have the courage to pull this on you."

Tord only nods, fingers tapping on the table in thought.

…

"Tom," It's Tord who has to approach him about it. The brunet looks up from his phone, throwing a questioning look at the taller man. He doesn't bother removing his headphones until a small box is dropped in his lap. It's wrapped up in blue wrapping paper, a long red ribbon tied around it to make it look a little prettier.

"It's… not my birthday?" But Tord shakes his head.

"Just open it."

Tom shrugs and does as he's told for once, tearing into the gift with eagerness. Tord fidgets, picking at his nails and looking down expectantly at Tom, hoping he'll understand the gesture with minimal explanation.

Within moments Tom is pulling out a mask, similar in quality to Tord's own but looking quite different. The perfectly round mask resembles a classic smiley face, bright yellow and cheery. The human is speechless at first, hands feeling the smooth surface and then wide eyes looking up at Tord.

"Tord, what are you saying with this?" The demon shrugs and looks away.

"Paul and Patryk have been bugging me about getting an additional man for our team. I have a hard time saying no to them…" He admits it and huffs in embarrassment. Why was he getting so worked up over this?

"What I'm saying is that we think you'd make a valuable addition to our heists. If you have nowhere else to go, we'll take you," He turns to walk away. "I don't expect you to make a decision right away, you can take some time-" But when he looks over his shoulder at the brunet the speech is knocked out of him.

Tom is smiling wide, blue eyes dancing happily while looking down at the mask in his hands, nodding slowly.

…

Not long after Tom agreed to heist with them, the four find themselves in the inconspicuous pink minivan, Paul driving them towards the bank they agreed on.

"Tom, for your first heist, you're going to stay in the van. Paul will stay with you and it'll be up to you two to drive us out when we need a quick getaway," Tord instructs, adjusting his blue uniform over his hoodie, and positioning his mask. He tosses a handgun into Tom's lap. "Also, keep as much heat off of us as possible. There's a good chance the cops could show."

All three of Tord's subordinates are nodding, but Tom slips his mask up quickly to say something. "Yeah, quick question," Tord nods for him to continue. "What the fuck is with this van?"

"It's unassuming," Paul offers defensively, tightening his grip on the wheel, and both Tom and Tord snicker. Patryk consoles his boyfriend and rubs his back, then clicks on his communicator and slips his mask down, cute doggy face making Tom straight up laugh.

The van rolls to a stop in the alley across the street from their target, and Tord nods to Pat before they tighten their holds on their respective firearms and bust out of the rear doors.

He uses some spare energy to pick up his speed, racing for the entrance to the bank. He bursts through, dropping his shoulder to smash through the doors and holding his gun up, firing a series of shots into the ceiling. As always, he revels in the loud gasps that come from the civilians inside.

"We're gonna be quick today, kiddos," Tord explains, snapping his fingers together and letting his claws and horns materialize, now that Tom's not watching. "Just line up and put your valuables in the bag that our good pooch here is holding. I'll be right here if you need me." And with that he's brandishing his rifle, keeping it aimed on the citizens.

Obediently, people start lining up and dropping wallets, watches, and phones into the burlap sack that Patryk holds. Little fuss is made, except for a few criers in the audience. Out of the corner of his eye, though, Tord spots a clerk shift their hand underneath a desk, and he shouts.

"Hey!" But it's too late and an alarm starts ringing, causing the patrons of the facility to panic. Tom and Paul's voices are heard through the communicators, but Tord can't make it out over the screaming. He lets his claws and horns fade away, opting to mix himself in with the crowd as they rush out.

Paul looks like he has the same idea, but when they get out of the building he shifts into his wolf form and grabs the bag in his teeth, sprinting faster than his leader towards the bright pink van. Tord curses his bipedal legs but pushes forward anyway, clinging to the back of the van and screaming through the window.

"DRIVE!"

It's only Paul and Patryk in the van though, and his heart stops. "Where's Tom?" He hisses and Paul weekly points behind him. Tord turns and spots the brunet, a few yards away, and it's really a sight to behold.

Tom's got an automatic rifle in either hand, firing away at the cops that turn around the corner, successfully suppressing them from advancing on the crew. He's laughing, and when one of the guns jams he just throws it on the ground and pulls a grenade from his side, yanking out the pin and throwing it just meters in front of the police officer pile up.

Tord thinks he's in love.

A sinister smirk spreads on his own face as he pulls out both of his handguns, making his way towards Tom. "Hey, hun," Tom laughs at the pet name while Tord fires a few shots of his own at the officers. "We're ready to go when you are."

Tom nods and picks up the gun he threw down moments ago, running back with Tord to the van, hoping inside and whooping as Paul peels out of there. Tord fires a couple more shots at the cops, hoping they'll take the hint and keep off their asses.

Tord sighs happily when they're on the highway, adrenaline still pumping through his veins giddily at the getaway. He turns to see Tom smiling wide, mask pulled up over his head and mussing up his hair. It takes everything for Tord to not just lean over and kiss him.

"Enjoy yourself, then?" Tom nods eagerly, prodding Tord in the chest.

"Next time, I wanna go inside." Tord couldn't agree more.

…

"The moon is fast approaching." Paul comments, looking out the window like an old grandfather would when telling his grandkids some war story.

"Uh… in English please?" Tom requests, sprawled out on the couch with Tord's head in his lap, the shorter of the two watching TV with Patryk.

Patryk lets out a small laugh, making his mate bristle and huff in annoyance. "The full moon is scheduled to rise in a few days," He explains, before flashing Tord a curious look. "Do you wish to accompany us, sir? We could bring Tom."

Tord shrugs, something that irritates Tom, considering it grinds Tord's shoulder blades straight into Tom's thighs, making the brunet mutter a curse under his breath. This causes Tord to snicker, but the demon doesn't laugh for long, creasing his brow in thought. "I have plans already for Tom and I," He states, keeping his eyes closed in order to both avoid eye contact with his teammates and enjoy the warmth of Tom's body heat against his upper back. "They're very special, important plans."

This earns a warranted amount of confusion from Tom. "Um… what? Where the heck are we going?" Tom questions, fiddling in his seat.

Tord smirks. "It's a surprise, knucklehead. You'll find out when we get there." He insists, refusing to give away his plans.

Tom huffs, rolling his eyes. "Whatever," He mutters, bouncing one of his knees to jostle Tord. "Get up; I gotta use the loo." He says, annoyed.

Unimpressed, Tord nonetheless sits up, allowing Tom the chance to go use the bathroom. He doesn't lie back down until he hears Tom go into the bathroom and shut the door behind him. "Where are you going to take Tom, sir?" Paul asks, ever the questioning type.

Tord shrugs, flopping down onto the couch with a sigh. "No clue," He admits, though he flashes Paul a smirk. "But… I think I have a few ideas in mind."

Now it's Patryk's turn to be confused. "Like what?" He questions.

Tord let's his mind drift, a memory of a lake as clear as the sky and a cabin rich with life. He grins to himself, reveling in the newfound inspiration. "Oh, don't you worry, Patryk. Just trust me when I say that it'll be good." And he leaves it at that, since Tom comes back into the room and, after adjusting Tord's upper body, sits back down with Tord's head in his lap.

The demon barely holds back a contented purr at the affection, feeling Tom offhandedly fiddle with a few strands of his hair. Tord squints up at Tom, staring into the boy's icy blue eyes, and again, he thinks of that clear-as-sky lake… yes, this will be perfect.

…

"So," Tom says from the passenger seat, turning down the volume of the radio so he doesn't have to talk over it. "Where are we going again?"

Tord flicks his gaze away from the road for a moment to look at Tom. "I've already told you, it's a surprise." He turns the radio back up and huffs, patting at the breast pocket of his hoodie in search of a cigar.

Volume back down. "No offense, but last time I wasn't told where I was going, I got fucking kidnapped." Tom laughs at the guilty look on Tord's face. He pulls a cigar from his pocket and hands it to the demon, who accepts it begrudgingly, popping it into his mouth. Right when he does, though, he's approaching a traffic circle, so he leans towards Tom in hopes the smaller will light it for him.

Tom huffs, holding the lighter away. "I'm not gonna light it 'till you tell me where we're going." Tord groans.

"You're really not gonna let me keep this as a surprise?" The brunet shakes his head. Tord sighs. "Thought it would be nice to get away for a spell; treat you to a night out since we've pulled off a few successful heists." He shrugs, trying not to embarrass himself. He moves to turn the volume back up, but Tom reaches out at the same time, and their fingers tap together for a moment.

The Norwegian pulls his hand back immediately, gripping it back on the wheel so tight that his knuckles strain against the leather and turn white. Tom doesn't move his own hand though, except to turn the volume back up slightly, still not quite as loud as Tord had it at before.

"Did you still want me to light your cig-, oh, looks like you already got it?" Tord is looking at him perplexed and then down at the unlit cigar in his mouth.

"No, I still-" Oh. His nerves must have been getting to him, because smoke is starting to rise up from the holes in his hoodie and also from his mouth. He curses his demon biology and tries to figure out how to play this one off. Tom just hands him the lighter without another word and the pair don't say anything for the rest of the car ride.

…

It's a few hours before they make it to their destination. Tom fell asleep shortly after their conversation about their intended destination, so Tord moves to wake him up when they get there. The sun is just starting to set, and the Norwegian kicks himself for a passing thought of how Tom looks good in the morning light.

In the end he just decides to unpack, leaving Tom to sleep in favor of unloading luggage and looking at the cottage in front of him. It's an old place, he bought it years ago and kept it furnished for a nice occasion (and of course, kept it supplied for use as a safe house, if need be). Just beside the small building is a clear lake and a small stone path leading to a gazebo in the distance.

Tord unpacks everything, and by the time he's done, the sun is almost all the way down. Tord walks himself down the path, breathing in fresh air and lighting the torches next to the gazebo as he goes. He enters the tiny structure and looks out onto the lake.

The way the crystal clear water reflects the quickly rising moon is stunning; nearly every surface looks like it's covered with the milky white glow of the planetary satellite.

"Tord?" Tom's voice startles him, but he composes himself quickly, attempting to stop the fluttering in his chest.

This has to happen, He thinks, turning towards the man and putting on a confident smirk. I can't keep dancing around this.

The demon puts both of his hands in his pockets. "What a magical night for two criminals, walking in the silver glow." He lets his hands shift into claws, unbeknownst to Tom. The brunet continues to approach, curious sneer present on his face.

"Jeez, are you always this dramatic?" He's climbing the couple of steps leading up to the demon, now, and Tord twitches his fingers anxiously.

"That's just my style," He chokes it out immediately, sensing Tom getting close to him. Just rip off the band-aid, Tord tells himself. Just rip it off. "So," He relaxes his shoulders and leans his head forward. "Tell me, Thomas-" The familiar weight of his horns settle at his temples and he can feel his tail shimmer into existence as he turns to face the human, red eyes glowing.

He brings a clawed hand up to lightly touch Tom's cheek. "-Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?" The astonishment in his eyes isn't unexpected, and neither is the twinge of fear he spots in the pale-blue orbs.

"Oh my god," He whispers, and Tord wonders if he was mistaken in thinking Tom would accept this part of him. Maybe, despite the hints that he had, Tom really didn't know that Tord is a demon. But, "That was the cheesiest line, oh my god." He's back to smirking, and the Norwegian is practically reeling. His shoulders stiffen and he pulls his clawed hand back slightly, surprised.

"Why," Tord whispers. "Why aren't you scared? Why don't you act like humans are supposed to?" Tom laughs and steps into Tord's space.

"I wasn't aware we were supposed to act a certain way," Tord's mind stops when his tail brushes the far wall of the gazebo; he hadn't realized he was walking backwards while Tom walked forwards. He turns to look behind him for only a second, but when he turns back those beautiful eyes are looking up at him and are far too close. "I've known this whole time, Tord. Did you really think I'd forget after you knocked me out that first night?" Tom chuckles. "You must be more ignorant than I thought, and that's honestly saying something.

He stutters, trying to find his words, but Tom stands on his tiptoes and wraps his arms around Tord's neck, and Tord can feel his entire brain shut off. "Uh." is all he can manage before there are lips on his, and he's leaning back, hands finding the rail behind him and using his arms to support himself.

His eyes slip shut almost immediately, and he sighs into the kiss, slowly moving his lips with Tom's. He adjusts himself (though never breaks that initial contact of lips), so he's sitting on the railing instead of propping himself off of it, getting his hands free to cup the sides of Tom's face. The smaller hums at the feeling, and breaks the kiss to comment. "Your hands are so warm." He nuzzles his cheek against the scaled hands, and opens his eyes, looking at the demon's horns.

"So, like," Tom slowly moves a hand up to feel the ridges on one of Tord's horns. The demon lets out a low, rumbling purr and tilts his head down, allowing Tom to feel as he pleases. He runs both hands along the curves and ridges, almost in awe of the feeling. "You're a demon? Or something?" Tord only nods, mind going numb at the energy flowing through him because of all the physical contact.

Tom pulls him up to stand unexpectedly, and he stumbles in Tom's arms, using his tail to steady himself. A questioning look is only answered by a smile. The smaller man puts one hand up on Tord's shoulder, the other resting on his waist.

"You asked if I've ever danced with a devil, or whatever?" Tord audibly gulps and nods slightly. Tom just smirks and laughs up at the demon. "I haven't, but we can change that tonight." He tugs on his waist and pulls him into a slow sway, sighing happily at the feeling.

Tord smiles too, heart fluttering impossibly fast in his chest. He choses not to question it, for once, and just leans down, stealing a kiss of his own.

…

"What is this?" Tom asks at the long, black feather that's been dropped into his lap. Tord doesn't meet his gaze, but both Paul and Patryk are on the other end of the room, pointing at their smiling faces and giving him encouraging gestures. It's almost comical how, when Tom turns to look at them, they look down at their laps and act as if they're doing something.

The human picks the feather up gingerly and holds it close to his face, studying the odd shimmer from the natural oils on it. Tord's hand twitches involuntarily, but still he doesn't speak. His face is red as Tom runs a finger down one edge in a matter of inspection.

"It's… cool?" Tom tries and looks up in confusion. Tord mentally kicks himself for being so worked up over this; to any human this is probably a meaningless gesture, but to him the implications are… Uncomfortable to work with, honestly. He thrashes his tail in an effort to calm himself down and Tom follows the movement, eyes trained on the tip of it.

His eyes grow wide with the sudden realization of where the feather came from and he looks up at Tord with a smirk. Before he can say anything, though, Tord shuffles away, spouting a series of curses in Norwegian. It takes only moments before Paul and Patryk are standing up and making their way over to console their leader.

…

Tord walks into the room with an air of authority he only puts on when he's entering a bank; but he feels this situation pretty well, too. Inside, Paul, Patryk, and Tom are already waiting for him. Tom's seated at the little round table in front of the whiteboard, the straps of his mask around his neck, leaving the mask to hand like a necklace while he reloads his revolver, his hands graceful with the weaponry. In the corner, Paul and Patryk are dozing, cuddled up together. However, when Tord comes in, all eyes are on him. Tom stops fiddling with his handgun immediately, giving Tord an expectant look, while Paul and Patryk jump up to salute the demon.

"At ease," Tord orders, but that only manages to convince Paul and Patryk to stop saluting. They remain standing, ready to be briefed. "As you all know, we haven't pulled any heists since before the full moon, and I know how antsy you boys are getting," This earns a smallest of growls from Paul, a flash of excitement glimmering in the werewolf's eyes. Tord simply holds up a hand, calming the wolf. "You'll have plenty of time to get that energy out. Now, as for the mission-"

"-Please tell me that I'm on vault duty." Tom interrupts, looking almost if not more eager than the two werewolves in the room.

Tord rolls his eyes, groaning. "Let me finish, dumbass," He orders, only to earn a stuck-out tongue in response. "Anyways… before Thomas so rudely interrupted me… we'll be hitting a building in one of the upper districts. I am well-aware that this is a more dangerous area to be stealing from- the cops will answer quicker for the rich bastards- but I think we are more than capable of pulling this off."

He gestures to a floorplan of a huge mansion-like estate. "It's a warehouse filled with loot belonging to one of the nastiest crooks in the city. Because of how the building is built there are two entrances. Paul and Tom; you two will be entering from the east, while Pat and I are coming from the west. We'll dispatch guards as we go, making our ways to respective vaults, and eventually converging on one central room. The ceiling is made of glass, making it a perfect exit point.."

Tom cheers, looking ready to shoot his gun into the air in celebration, but one click of the tongue from Tord has him shutting up, looking for the life of him almost sorry. Tord continues, once he's sure that Tom won't be blasting a hole through the ceiling. "If we do this quickly, we should be able to fly out of there in no time flat. I'm well aware that Tom has never flown with me before, but I feel it is our only means of escape if- when the cops get called. There's no avoiding it in the upper districts. Dismissed."

At once, Tom and Paul take off, chattering to each other in high spirits as they discuss bomb designs and other explosive ideas. Tord moves to follow, but a hand on his shoulder stops him. He pauses, looking over his shoulder at Patryk, who looks very concerned. "Sir," Patryk says, and Tord can already tell how upset the wolf is; something must be wrong. "I… I have a bad feeling about this, sir. Like something will happen."

Tord sighs, accepting this. With Patryk and Paul being better connected to the Earth- considering their breed of monster- they sometimes get these gut feelings. Everyone gets them, but for Paul and Patryk… Tord understands how hard it can be for them. Most of the time it's nothing- faulty genes or intense anxiety has caused more than a few false alarms in the past- but sometimes… sometimes it's real, and when it's real, it's either really bad or really life changing. Now that Tord thinks about it, he remember Paul mentioning a gut feeling the day they kidnapped Tom. Shaking that thought away, Tord puts on a brave face for his teammate.

"Ey," He murmurs, patting Patryk's hand on his shoulder in reassurance. "We'll be careful in there, okay? We'll stick together once we get in, and we'll keep in touch with the boys at all times. Alright?"

Patryk still seems unsure, but in the end he simply nods, wolf ears appearing and flapping back in submission. "If you're so sure, sir. It's just… nevermind." With that, Patryk follows after the boys, leaving Tord to watch him go.

Tord sighs, demon tail coming up to wrap around his lanky legs in a showing of comfort for himself. Tord fiddles with the fluff at the tip of his tail, unnerved by Patryk's gut feeling… but Tom and Paul are eager for another heist, and this one is so promising… it'll be fine, Tord assures himself. He'll make it work.

...

Tord grumbles around the cigar in his mouth, leaning back and looking over the plans for the next heist. It was ambitious, sure, but with how good Tom was getting at heisting with them all, he knows they can pull it off. Doesn't keep him from stressing, though. He takes a long drag from his cigar and leans back in his chair, closing his eyes thoughtfully.

"The plans coming along alright?" Tom comes up behind him and questions, looking at the map laid across the table, covered in markings and writing.

Tord nods and crosses his legs in concern. "I think so. I feel like with the proper communication we can pull this off, but..." He sighs, breathing out two long streams of smoke from his nose. Tom follows the smoke trails with his eyes, eventually smirking down at the lounging demon with a look in his eyes that takes Tord a little too long to place.

"Don't be so worried," Tom says, stepping forward, leaning down so he's eye level with Tord. The demon blushes but doesn't drop eye contact with the man in front of him and somehow Tom's smirk gets wider. The brunet leans forward, so their faces are barely inches apart. "There are plenty of things that are better for you than worrying."

And with that Tom plucks the cigar from Tord's mouth, taking a drag from it himself and holding it in as he puts his hands on both sides of the Norwegian's face. Tord lets his mouth hang open in awe, both at how Tom has the gall to just take his fucking smoke and oh my god, how is this so hot-

Tom laughs and blows the smoke directly into his mouth, ending the action with a filthy kiss, dragging his tongue along Tord's and sucking on his teeth and upper lip. Tord moans lowly, hand moving up to grip the front of Tom's shirt, dragging him down so he's straddling his lap.

"Maybe there are better things to do than worry..." Tord admits, before stealing a smoky kiss of his own, and grinding up slightly towards Tom.

…

"So, get this," Tord hears Tom say over the headset and snorts as he blows a guard's head off with his shotgun. "When Paul and I busted in, there was already some other gang?" He laughs and a bang is heard from the other end of the headset. "Yeah, they're gone now."

Patryk's voice sounds from next to the demon. "If there's another gang around here, it could be best to look out for traps. Do you recognize who they are?"

"Well," Paul cuts in with a grumble. "It's hard to tell when they're a pulpy mess on your shoe." Tom laughs and Paul makes a small 'oof', implying Tom gave him a quick shove. "How did our crew get so much more violent when Tom joined? You're a good kid." He gripes.

"Tom is secretly a huge sinner," Tord laughs when Tom stutters. "I should know, because I'm the devil." Paul and Patryk both sigh.

"Sure you are, boss," A little bit of silence from all ends as they approach their marks. "Paul and Tom, how close are you to your safe?"

The human's smirk is audible. "We're already at ours, and there's no guards in sight. How about you guys?"

"Hm," Patryk checks the map in his hands before nudging Tord to follow him to the left. "We've got a few more guards sticking around here and there, but I'm pretty sure we're almost at our cache," He steps over a body and Tord just crunches his boot into it. "If you guys get to the main room first, make sure to lie low."

Both Tom and Paul make small noises of confirmation and Tord mutes his headset, looking to Patryk from behind his mask. "Where were we, Pat?" The werewolf shrugs as he checks a corner, gun at the ready. He deems it safe though and continues.

"Something about you and Tom…?" He offers and Tord snaps his claws.

"Yeah, Tom," He sighs dreamily. "So, I know I've told you a million times about the night where we went to the Gazebo-"

Patryk snorts. "You have."

"-But we never said we love each other. I like Tom a lot but I don't know how he feels about me," He sighs dramatically, clutching his firearm to his chest. "He's so cryptic, I'm telling you. He's one of the only humans I have a hard time figuring out."

"You've said."

Tord glares at the werewolf and flips his mask up. "Well what I'm saying now is I think I'm gonna ask him out. Like, actually ask him out instead of him interrupting me when I'm about to ask with a make-out session, you know?" Patryk just sighs.

The Norwegian is about to continue his rant when Paul suddenly cuts in the coms. "Sir," He sounds unnerved, and immediately Tord puts his serious face back on. "We have a problem here."

"Status report, Blue." He commands into the headset and Tom flicks his headset on.

"Things here are fine." Though he tries his damnedest to hide it, the nerves are still clear in Tom's voice.

Tord curses Tom's stubbornness. "What is the situation?" Silence. "That's an order, Blue." Tom sighs and curses quietly.

"It's just a bomb, it's no problem. I can disarm it, I just-" He swears again and Tord's heart stops. "I just need a minute and some quiet." The Norwegian exchanges a fearful glance with Patryk, who looks just as worried as Tord feels.

"Abandon the mission," Tord says, numb. "We're not risking safety for this. We're pulling out now, no questions asked," Tom groans into the headset and there's a sharp clack on his end. "Blue," No answer. "Tom."

It's Paul's voice he hears and it does nothing to calm him down. "He just threw down his headset, sir. He's fine, he-" Paul's voice gets muffled slightly, but his words are still clear when Tord strains his ears. "Tom, you heard him, we have to pull out."

Tom's voice is a lot less clear, but Tord knows he's refusing to listen. He sprints towards their location, ignoring everything but the voices on the headset and the fear that pushes him forward.

"Sir, we gotta go, there's no time!" Paul shouts, becoming frantic. Tom says something quickly, but the werewolf cuts him off with a whine. "It's gonna blow-"

"Shut up!" Tom shouts so loud and Tord feels like he's about to vomit. "Just shut up, I can still-" The next few seconds are a blur. He hears Paul shout, a small curse from Tom, and the deafening cacophony of an explosion. Patryk cries out next to him and suddenly a huge, lumbering wolf barrels past the demon.

"Paul?" Patryk whimpers ahead and Tord rushes forward. He turns the corner and gets a good look at the room just as Patryk lets out a small and terrified 'oh my god'.

The entire room is destroyed, Paul is lying on the ground unconscious, hand outstretched at a huge pile of rubble near the center of the room. Patryk is chanting 'no's and crying, back in his half-shift but mask thrown down on the ground next to his boyfriend's.

Tord swallows the lump in his throat, and attempts to take hold of the situation. "Pat, calm down, check his pulse." He does.

"He- He's alive!" The werewolf chokes around a sob and bows his head. "Thank god, oh my god," Tord nods, thankful as well.

"We need to move him and," He orders, but his heart actually stops when he sees what he feared under the rubble ahead of them. "And…"

A single arm pokes out from underneath a jagged piece of marble. It's got one of their blue uniforms on.

"Oh no."

Tom.

Tord rushes forward, all sense of self gone, his mind chanting Tom's name over and over, fearful and anxious. He pulls at the debris until he reveals the human's body, fragile and broken by the weight of the rubble. He lets out a low sob, tugging at the body in an effort to wake him. His heart flutters when he sees movement in his hands, but when Tom tries to open his eyes and cries out in pain, Tord feels a ball of ice settle in the pit of his stomach.

When Tom opens his eyes, they're no longer the pale blue he knew.

They're black.

...

Jujukind: So, I hope you guys liked this latest chapter! I'm sorry this took a while and not isn't as good as some of our other chapters. Real life has been quite busy these last few days, but we've been having a lot of fun writing for you all and maintaining our blog for this AU! (Monster-Apartments-AU ). I'd like to personally thank a lot of friends I made in the last few weeks: The EddsChat, my cool-ass Squad, and Dallas (3)! You guys constantly encourage and inspire me when I write, and I honestly wouldn't be here writing for you with Casey without the crazy amounts of support I've gotten from all of you. Thank you again, and I hope you all enjoy the next chapter when it comes out!

Supercasey: I'm sorry that I didn't write as much of this chapter; school sucks and my tablet is, well, distracting. In short, I contributed next to nothing to this, but, ya know, lmao. Enjoy, kiddos!