This is my first Eddsworld fanfic, so I allow me to apologize in advance if I the characters come out as OOC. Anyway, enjoy!

Tom x Tord fic

Tom swayed clumsily from side to side, his non-existent eyes blinking to try and fade away his blurry vision. Using his hand, he felt around his desk, as if searching for something. He mumbled incoherent curses under his breath after a while of fumbling around in the dark and failing at finding the object he is looking for.

Eventually his hand manages to wrap around the glass cylinder of a Smirnoff bottle. Lifting up to his mouth he chugged it, nearly downing the entire bottle in one swing. He brought the bottle back down, using his sleeve to wipe the remains left around his lips. He burped and groaned, feeling stuffed with the holy alcohol.

It's been three months since him, Matt and Edd moved to their new apartment, and things have been going on as usual. Most of the time anyway. Ever since Tord's betrayal, with the giant robot and all, Tom has been getting a little restless. And it annoyed him beyond belief because he couldn't, for the life of him, figure out why.

If he had to guess is because of the fair chance that Tord could come back. Matt and Edd are worried about this chance being genuine, but Tom knew better. And if the red commie actually dared to show his ugly face near them again, he'll handle it. Just like last time; Tom thought to himself, feeling smug.

Tom was interrupted from his thoughts when he hears the doorbell ring. He groans in annoyance. He really doesn't want to leave the comfort of his armchair, but he sighs and gets up anyways. He clumsily makes his way over to the front door, drunk out of his mind, and barely comprehendible. He leans against one of the walls for support, belching, and shakes the doorknob, trying to open it.

After several, drunkenly attempts, he opens the door. In front of him stands a man, he can't see him very well with his blurry vision. He only makes out a blue outfit, messy brown hair and a cigar poking out of his mouth. Tom is not sure if it's his drunk mind playing tricks on him, but is the guy wearing an eyepatch?

"Letter for you, sir!" The man announced. He reached out, presenting a letter towards Tom.

Tom slowly blinked, not comprehending what was currently going on at first. He simply glanced down at the letter and back up at the man's face. His brain eventually processed the information, and Tom sluggish stretched his arm forward to take the letter from him. Without further word, just a few gibberish grumbles under Tom's breath, he turned around and slammed the door.

Tom made his way back to his cherished armchair and fell back in his seat with a sigh of content. He looked over the letter more closely, his vision smudging the tiny letters containing the address on it. His eyes finally focused, and he could make out a red wax stamp with a strange symbol on it. He couldn't exactly make it out, but it looked strangely familiar.

He rips the letter open and takes out the content inside. A dumb piece of paper. Tom groaned in disappointment. He was hoping it was candy. Tom was almost inclined to crumple up the paper in a ball and toss it in the trash, and he was about to do so when his curiosity peaked. Who would send him a letter? In 2016? He didn't even know letters still existed! Who uses mail in 2016?

His curiosity got the best of him and he turned over the letter and read the contents inside. Although, it was major struggle for him and his drunk state. He could barely make out the tiny letters.

Hello Thomas

You were probably not expecting it, especially considering our rivalry, but I thought you should know; after all, I don't even know myself if we'll ever see each other again, although I sincerely hope so.

Remember the good old days? Where we would simply hate each other? Bickering and name calling like a couple of little kids? I guess over time our hatred for each other evolved into something more than intended to.

Anyways, how you doing? Not that I care. What about Matt and Edd? How are they handling my inevitable betrayal? You and I both knew all along it was going to happen. That's what intrigued me most about you Tom. You could read me. You always suspected me of something, thought you weren't exactly sure what, I guess you finally got your answer in the end. But I was always curious as to why you never mentioned your doubts about me to the others. Any particular reason?

As of me, things have been going… I would say fine just to shove it in your face and fell smug about it, but that would be a complete lie. Thanks to our… little rivalry; I had a complete make-over. So I suppose my left side is my better side from now on. Quite a shame really, I liked my right side the best. And normally it would be so easy to just dump all the blame on you for what happened to me, but I am very well aware of my own actions and it was my carelessness that led you to pierce a harpoon through my robot. That doesn't mean I forgive you, if anything that gives me more reason to go after you for revenge, but I know it's not "entirely" your fault.

You think you're so clever, don't you Tom? You probably brag about your "victory" against me so openly to the others. Well, I sort of admire that about you. You are the perfect nemesis, and I couldn't ask for a better one indeed. But I guarantee you that the next time we meet, and there WILL be a next time, you may not be as fortunate.

Enjoy the calm before the storm while it lasts, Tom. I need some time to recover handle some things and then I'll extract my revenge upon you. Jeg elsker deg, Tom. Until we meet again, old friend. Ha det!

Signed: Tord.

Tom read the letter multiple times, trying to process the information contained. Suddenly, in a fraction of a moment of clarity his mind cleared up just enough for him to finally understand. Tom narrowed his eyes down at the letter in pure hatred. Tord's betrayal shook Edd and Matt hard, but Tom knew from the start he was bad news. The two of them never seen each other eye to eye. Probably because Tom doesn't actually have any eyes, but that's beside the point.

So, the commie bastard finally decided to come into contact with them; correction, him. Which is plenty weird in of itself. Think he can boast and brag about taking him down. Tom laughed at the silliness of it all. Well, if Tord thinks he can intimidate him with this petty attempt of a threat, he had another thing coming for him.

Tom fumbled around his desk using his hands. He grabbed a clean sheet of paper and a pen. He giggled, as if in insane delight. He looked down at the paper and began to write down furiously. He stopped for a moment in mid-writing to take another swig of his Smirnoff, accidentally spilling over the paper and smudging some of the words. Tom groaned in annoyance but shrugged the incident off, continuing to write down in the now wet piece of paper.

He stopped again, contemplating what else to write. He bit down the end of the pen deep in thought. After a little while of thinking Tom went back on writing. As he was doing so, Tom would occasionally glance back at Tord's letter. Upon closer inspection he noticed the foreign sentence neatly written near the end. Jeg elsker deg. What does it even mean? His drunken mind thought.

Obviously it was something in the commie's native language, Norwegian, but despite knowing Tord for years Tom knows not a single thing of Norwegian. Tom knew he could easily just google it and find out the meaning of the sentence, but his drunk state of mind doesn't allow him to think clearly. Instead, Tom deduced the meaning behind it by analyzing the letter once again. Knowing Tord himself it probably means screw you, or something along these lines. Tom thought. Well, right back at yah buddy.

Tom laughed as he finished writing the letter down. He sealed it shut inside the envelope and went off to post and mail back. He slipped the letter inside his mail box with a wide sloppy grin. Tom takes another swig of Smirnoff, emptying the bottle. As he headed back home he laughed out loud. If only he could film the bastard's reaction once he read his letter. Tom felt proud of himself at that moment. That will show him!

Tord is sitting back behind his desk, lounging in his big comfortable chair. He was managing some paper work involving his scientific research, the giant robot, his soldier's files amongst other boring stuff. He sighed in boredom. If there is one thing he had to complain about being the leader of an evil organization is all of the paper work he had to do. On the bright side, at least his arm doesn't hurt as much from writing all the time. Tord chuckled with dry humor, glancing at his new, robotic arm. Regards from his last encounter with Tom.

Speaking of the eyeless jackass, Tord couldn't help but wonder how he reacted to his letter. He didn't know why, but in the morning he found himself missing the presence of the rude, blue hoodie man. So to try and get rid of that feeling he wrote him a letter and requested for Paul, one of his soldiers, to deliver it for him. Now, instead of turning his attention back to his work, like he should, Tord is feeling rather antsy. He knows better than to get his hopes up. In fact, Tord wouldn't be surprised at all if Tom immediately tossed his letter into the garbage after ripping it in tiny little pieces.

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. "Come in." Tord commanded, looking up from his paper work to glance at the door expectantly.

Paul entered the room at his leader's permission. He saluted him and Tord walked up to him. "At ease, soldier." He said, allowing Paul to stop the motion. "Mission report." He ordered, wanting to get right down to business, so that the anxious feeling in the pit of his stomach can finally fade away.

"Sir, the mission went along exactly as planned, sir!" Paul reported, not making direct eye contact with the leader. After the incident with the giant robot, none of the soldiers dare to look at their leader straight in his eyes. Or rather… eye.

"And?" Tord pressed forward after a moment's of silence, yearning to know more details.

"Sir, the letter was delivered to subject Tom as you have ordered, sir!" Paul went on. "I waited to see his next course of action. It seems he wrote a return letter addressed to you, sir!"

Tord barely caught what Paul just said and was about to ask him to repeat himself when Paul stretched his arms forward, displaying the letter. Almost hesitant, Tord gulped and took the letter from him, glancing at it curiously. "Well done, soldier." He praised. "You're dismissed."

Paul nodded and saluted once more before leaving the room. Tord turned around to sit back behind his desk, his eye wide in surprise. Out of all the scenarios he had imagined would happen, Tord thought a reply was the least probable one. But, here it is.

Sitting back in his chair Tord analyzed the envelope. It wasn't properly sealed and it was rather crunched up. Tord moved to open it and take out the letter from inside but his hand stopped. He hesitated. Tord didn't want to admit it, but he was afraid at what might be written. Pathetic. Here he is, the almighty red leader, commander of an entire organization, soon leader of the whole world, and he is afraid of facing the reply letter from an alcoholic lunatic.

Tord mentally face palmed at the scenario and sighed. He quickly decided to get it over and done with as soon as possible and just ripped out the letter from inside. Bringing it to his face so he may look at it closer, he immediately detected the stench of alcohol in the letter, and a huge splash mark. The letters were all smudged, messy and incoherent. Tord chuckled. Same old Thomas. No doubt he was completely wasted while writing this.

The words are all smudged and misspelled. Tord grit his teeth in frustration as he read and re-read the letter over and over, trying to comprehend it. Eventually he managed to make it out. Of course he had to correct the various grammar errors, but he did it.

Dear commie

You sure do have a lot of guts by writing to me with this pathetic threat after I beat you and your stupid giant robot. You think you can scare us with some petty threats? If that's the case, I only have one thing to say in return to you: JEG ELSKER DEG TORD!

You think you're so cool with your smooth, fancy shiny hair of yours? You guessed wrong! You're not cool, you're handsome! And those gray eyes of yours? Well, they suck. I can't stop looking at them and it makes me annoyed. I always hated the color red, but for some reason I think it looks good on you!

Whatever menacing plan you got in store for us, BRING IT ON! I can't wait to see you again so I can brag about how much better we are off without you, despite the fact that I resorted to heavy drinking again since you've been gone. Until next time, commie!

Signed: Your good old nemesis, Thomas!

PS: I'll be waiting for you.

Tord was left speechless, and he felt a light tinge of pink flourishing upon his cheeks as he read and re-read the letter multiple times. But he was not imagining it, or misunderstood it in anyway. This is all written down by Tom's own hand. Of course, Tord immediately concluded this is all a result of Tom's wasted mind. But he couldn't help but secretly wish that at least a small portion of these words could possibly be true.

What's even more interesting is that Tom actually managed to copy (albeit rather clumsily) one of the sentences he used in his own letter. The Norwegian sentence he used: Jeg elsker deg. Tord couldn't help the smile that stretched across his face as he re-read that passage in the letter. If he had to guess, Tom probably thought the phrase meant something insulting. Tord chuckled. If only he had search on google for the meaning behind it.

In actuality, the phrase in his own letter was a dumb decision. Tord wasn't even sure why he wrote it. He wants to slap himself for his carelessness. He's been feeling rather strange since the incident with the robot. Tord would often find himself thinking of Tom. At first, he thought it was out of pure hatred for the Jehovah's Witness; for standing on his way, foiling his plans, destroying the robot and scarring half of his face permanently. But the more he thought about Tom, the more the feeling inside his stomach grew. He didn't know for certain if it was indeed attraction he felt for Tom, but Tord doesn't know how else to put it. He still hates him after all; a part of him does anyway. So he thought that perhaps to alleviate the feeling he would admit it to Tom. Of course, he would write in his native language so Tom wouldn't know what it meant right away, but it was still a big risk considering he could've just searched the meaning on the internet. But thankfully, luck is on his side and Tom did not suspect a thing.

Tord looked over the letter once more with a small smile. He knows Tom was not in his right state of mind when writing this, but Tord neatly folded the messy letter and tucked in the chest pocket of his blue uniform regardless of that fact.

As he went back to his paper work, feeling much better now, he remembered a program he saw a little while. A documentary about alcohol and its effects. The drunken letter reminded Tord of the program, and he suddenly remembered of one of the lines said by the narrator: "A drunk mind speaks a sober heart." Tord paused in his work, contemplating the phrase tossed in his sub-consciousness. He glanced down at the pocket where the letter was stored with curiosity. Could it be…?