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how Tom ended in a 7 eleven at four am with Tord of all people isn’t relevant, or it probably is but considering he’s drunk off his ass he doesn’t really care about those details at the moment.
anyways.
he's spacing out again.
Tom shakes his head to clear his thoughts though that just makes him kinda ill and dizzy.
he takes another sip of his flask.
“are you gonna choose or what?” Tord cuts in after Tom has been staring at the candy options for a good few minutes. The Norsk isn’t drunk like Tom, he’d declined when he’d offered his vodka, muttering some excuse about not being an alchie like Tom, though he was pretty sure the guy was just lightweight and too proud to admit it.
“fuck off.” Tom giggled as he snatched a Da-Capo bar off the shelf. When sober the man could barely go ten minutes with the other without it escalating into a fist fight, but he’d learned he didn’t mind the guy’s company when a couple shots in. take from that what you will.
“Da-Capo? what are you? fifty?” Tord made a nasty face at his candy option.
“what are you? five? mister-Suffeli-Puffi-snacks?” Tom taunted back.
“faen deg! Suffeli isn’t only for kids! not everything has to have alcohol in it you addict!” Tord remarked holding the bag of candy to his chest clearly taking the insult to heart.
“You smoke a pack a day, your addict-name-calling rights are provoked bro” Tom laughed swaying a little on his feet.
“what-fucking-ever jævel, let’s just go pay.” Tord muttered, catching Tom by his hood as he almost crashed into one of the shelves.
the cashier eyed them as they made their way to the register but ultimately said nothing as they checked their items.
“that’ll be eight twentythree.” they said blankly.
“takk, just wait a sec.” Tord said as he began to dig through Tom’s pockets for the other’s wallet.
“dude don’t touch my ass” Tom whined when Tord checked his back pockets.
“for once I’m not trying to Jehovah's witness- where the fuck is your wallet you idiot?!” Tord muttered, getting frustrated when he couldn’t find the thing he was looking for.
“I thought you were gonna pay?” Tom questioned leaning onto the scrawnier man making the Norsk bend under the weight of his friend.
“I never pay! you know this! du god for ingenting! I don’t have my wallet!” he gritted.
Tord was getting ready to strangle Tom but before he could get to that he remembered the gun that was resting in his hoodie pocket…what if…
“hey Thomas?” Tord asked, turning to the other man while a manic grin spread on his pale face.
“hm?” Tom hummed, turning his hollow eyes to the shorter man.
“wanna rob this store?” he asked slowly, his eyes glimmering with danger.
the cashier looked slightly alarmed at this looking between the two men.
“hmmm…yeah mate why not?” Tom agreed, his smile showing off his slightly more sharp than normal teeth. were he not drunk he’d probably would’ve just called Tord an idiot, but his reasoning skills weren't exactly pristine at the moment.
“kul!” Tord grinned quickly pulling out his gun and shooting the cashier point blank in the head, gore splashed onto the counter and the two men as the now dead body hit the desk before sliding off to the floor in a bloody mess.
“headshot!” Tom cheered, unbothered by the blood splashed onto his hoodie and jeans. (well, at least at the moment. He'll have plenty to say about it once he wakes up with a bloody hangover in the literal sense of the word.)
Tord held out a fist and Tom bumped it quite sloppily.
“go take whatever the fuck you want, just be quick!” Tord said as he glided over the bloody counter and broke the glass of the cigarette rack behind it with the blunt of his gun.
Tom whooped and disappeared into the alcohol aisle.
Tord stuffed his hoodie pockets with his favorite brand before eyeing the lighters, he snatched a few with women in bikinis printed on them, he would’ve preferred anime ones but they didn’t seem to have those which was a crime on itself if you asked Tord.
next he opened the cash register next, clearing it out as best as he could, he ended up snatching a grocery bag which he stuffed a lot of the money and cigarettes in.
After making sure that the bag wasn’t overflowing too much he dug his phone from the pocket of his jeans, flipping it open and dialing Paul’s number.
it only rang twice before Paul picked up.
“what do you want at four in the fucking morning?” the man on the other side of the line muttered.
“a getaway car hopefully! get your and Pat’s ass to the seven eleven down the street before the pigs show up!” Tord ordered while opening one of the cigarette packs and sticking on into his mouth lighting it with the new lighter.
“i fucking hate you.” Paul said but Tord could hear him getting up to wake up Patryck.
“don’t leave me waiting kjære! ha det!” Tord hummend before hanging up.
Tom came back not long after, carrying multiple different flavored smirnoff vodkas.
“Our ride should be here in a minute, let's go!” Tord said, tugging the other man along through the door of the seven eleven, the security bells starting to ring as they crossed to the outside.
it was freezing out, snow and slush covering the streets as the two men stumbled away from the crime scene.
Thankfully for everyone (besides the cops probably) Paul came cruising in not long after, going way past the speed limit and almost crashing into the lamp post as he came to a sudden stop in front of the two.
“get in.” he ordered while Pat threw the backseat door wide open as Tord showed Tom and then himself in the car, door slamming shut quickly out of the momentum as Paul began immediately speeding away, Tord only getting his legs in by a millisecond early avoiding getting his legs getting crushed by the door.
“who the fuck is the other guy?!” Patryck asked urgently, eyeing Tom who was giggling drunkenly at the whole situation.
“Thomas, a friend!” Tord replied, he and Tom were laying on the back seats in a mess of tangled limbs.
“We're not friends, you communist man-whore!!” Tom hollered pushing Tord’s face away from his with his palm, the Norsk just hitting at the other as he tried to get the other’s sweaty palm away from his face.
Paul just rolled his eyes as he sped away, he could faintly hear the police sirens in the distance.
“where am I even taking you?” Paul asked massaging the bridge of his nose.
“home!” Tom shouted.
“Yeah, sure, get us back to my current place of residence.” Tord agreed, it wasn’t like Matt or Edd were home, they were gone in the city for the evening if he remembered correctly. Tord bit Tom’s hand as he again tried to shove it in his face, the man shouted before pulling Tord away by his hair.
“don’t touch the hair drittsekk! I spend way too much time on the spikes, I swear I’ll choke you to death!!” Tord growled now punching more insistently at the other.
“fucking cut it out! I can’t fucking drive when you’re having a fucking wrestling match back there! kanker!” Paul raged over the sound of the two fighting, Patryck was too busy holding onto his seat to add anything to the conversation at the moment.
the outbursts seemed to calm the two down a little for the rest of the ride to the house.
Paul parked in the yard and Patryck helped Tord drag the now almost blackout drunk Tom out of the car to the house.
“we’re crashing here. I don’t care what you say but when you call us at ass crack in the morning you better believe I’m not driving back to our flat after.” Paul said as he closed the front door after them as Tord and Pat dropped Tom onto the couch.
Tord sighed but nodded before collapsing next to Tom, well, more specifically on top of the man’s feet. the man slurred an insult at the Norsk pulling his feet from under the man onto his lap. Patryck stared at the two before sending a look at Paul who just dragged his hand down his face.
“you’re gonna fucking kill me someday.” he muttered.
With his eyes closed Paul heard the sound of throwing up, and as he dared to look he saw Tord’s friend passed out and a pool of vomit on the floor next to the couch. The man simply sighed again and opened one of the many alcohol bottles Tom had stolen that were currently lying on the table.
christ.
“we’re back!” Edd shouted as he closed the door behind him and Matt, their trip had taken a while longer than expected so they ended up just spending the night at the city and only getting back in the morning.
“in the kitchen!” came the shout of Tord. he could smell something cooking in the kitchen which was unexpected, both Tord and Tom were both awful cooks.
What he did not expect when he walked in the kitchen with Matt was to be met with two strangers along with their two friends, one of the unknown men cooking french toast while the others were sitting at the table seemingly waiting for him to finish.
Tom was hiding his face in his arms with a black coffee next to him, his usual hangover breakfast. Tord sat opposite to him with a concerning amount of money stacked around him that he seemed to be counting through, next to him sat another stranger who was sipping orange juice as he watched the Norsk count.
“uh…who are these two?” Edd said after a minute glancing between the strangers and his friends.
“Pat and Pau, friends of mine.” Tord said distractedly, still counting the bills, the man next to him gave Edd and Matt a lazy wave but otherwise didn’t say anything.
“It's Paul. You know I hate that nickname. Anyways, you two want french toast too?” the man cooking on the stove -Paul apparently- said, briefly glancing at Edd and Matt, raising one of his thick eyebrows.
“yes! I love french toast!!” Matt exclaimed, rushing to sit at the table next to Tom, unbothered by Tord’s ‘friends’.
Edd eyed at the money contemplating asking what the heck the two (or four?) of them did last night, but thought better of it.
“sure I guess.” he sighed sitting at the head of the table, he could probably ask later when Tom wasn’t still on the brink of death.
for now he’ll take the free breakfast.
bless Paul whoever he is because he sure can make a good french toast.