Chapter Text
Tom had a demon. Not a demon that plagued him emotionally, though that would've been preferred. No, of course he had to be possessed by a rage demon.
What made it worse for him back then was knowing his parents were being forced to watch as he drifted away from them, shutting himself away so they wouldn't know.
Now, he didn't think about it. Not of the demon, but of his past.
He had to keep the fucker in check. And it was easy. Having fun and the occasional drink seemed to work for the longest time, and Tom really didn't mind.
Sure, occasionally the demon would rear its head and screw him over, but for the most part, he had it under control.
Then Tord showed up.
Fucking Tord.
Even over the course of the day the two had been in proximity of each other, he felt like he was on the brink of killing the damned commie. The only reason he hadn't was because of Edd and Matt.
He tried to keep himself calm and composed for his house search, but that was barely possible. Hell, he wanted to kill the rat puppet weirdo the second he jumped out.
Actually getting a house calmed him down, though.
Then, of course, Tord’s wanted poster happened.
Once again, his demon threatened to come out and beat the shit out of the commie, but he panicked once he saw the giant robot and ran faster than he ever thought he could.
His demon, thank Christ (the irony is not lost on Tom), protected him from the missle, but he was beaten up pretty badly. Still, he found enough strength to dig out the harpoon gun and fire it at Tord. He nearly collapsed after that.
He wished it was the end.
It should've been the end.
And yet...
~~~~~~~~
Tord came back again.
Because of course he had to.
Seeing the robotic arm replacement was… interesting. Tom kept finding himself watching it move and trying to figure out the logistics of it.
“Tom, do you really have to stare?”
Tom glanced up at hearing Edd’s voice chastising him.
“Huh? Oh, shit. Sorry.” He turned away from Tord and tried not to look back at the arm.
“As I was saying, I think we need to have a reunion lunch at Bob’s Diner. Don't you agree?”
Tom begrudgingly nodded along with the others.
This would be hell. Trying to act like he didn't want to kill someone who nearly killed him.
Of course.
~~~~~~~~
Of course.
His demon.
How could he forget about something like this?
He hadn't even noticed. He thought he had it under control. On any other day, this wouldn't have happened, and he knows it.
Just a bit ago, the lunch had been going well, other than Tord’s occasional taunting.
Keywords, had been and occasional.
Tord had said something that really set Tom off.
“Sure, sure, but I bet Mr. Witness over here knows the answer.”
“Don’t even go there.” Tom glared at Tord, trying to figure out in what way to most painfully put down the Norski fuc-
Tom tried to hide it in public.
Really, he did.
He swore to Jehovah that he had everything under control with that demon fuck of his, that today was gonna be just fine even with Tord's fuckery, that he was going to make it through this without shifting once. —
“Eh, Tom? You're a little, uh, droopy? Your ears, anyw-”
— So when Tord points out his drooping ears after he’s been mockingly called a Witness by the commie, he understandably panics.
“Wait, what? ”
Tom covered his ears and- fucking hell.
He probably looked like a cryptid right now.
“I-I… I think I have to go.”
And without another word, he went.
~~~~~~~~
It fucking hurt.
Tom had found himself a hidden alleyway to hide in while this bullshit happened. He hoped no one would look for him.
Of course, despite being incredibly painful, the shift was also incredibly slow. Probably why it hurt so much.
So Tom thought.
He thought about what Tord might think. Even while Tord had lived with them initially, Tom only ever let Edd and Matt see him in this form. Would Tord hate this?
Would Tord do experiments on him? He always was a science-y sorta person, and judging by the fact that his arm had a robotic replacement, that hadn't changed a bit.
What if Tord treated him worse because of this? Treating him like an animal or even mocking him about it?
Tom wasn't sure when the crying started. All he knew was that he didn't want Tord to see him in this state.
He curled up inside a busted up cardboard box, feeling like a worthless kitten with a “free to a good home” sign hung around his neck. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to be found or not.
Just not Tord.
Just.
Not.
“Tom?”
Tord.
Tom only growled and tried to step back deeper into the alley, but tripped over his tail and fell over. He heard the commie’s laugh echo throughout the alley and instinctively covered his ears.
“Edd and Matt told me to check on you. Are you doing alright, vitne? ”
Tom wanted to respond but was honestly scared to. What if he scared Tord? If he had to be friends with him for the rest of his life again, then this wasn't an ideal way to start.
Then he saw it.
A blue glow from Tord's robotic arm.
And that was it.
Tom ran at Tord, snagged the arm, and ran right past the now disarmed Tord.
“Y-Y-YOU TOOK MY ARM!?”
Tom skidded to a stop and realized what the actual fuck he did.
Yes, he just stole Tord’s arm. A robotic arm, sure, but an arm nonetheless. Tom trotted back over — with how far he was shifted, walking on all fours was much more comfortable — and returned the surprisingly undamaged arm to Tord.
“Sorry. It was glowing.”
“Why do you look like a bootleg horror monster?”
Tom glanced at himself and realized, yeah, he's still a monster. He didn't say anything in response.
“Tom?”
“...”
“Tom. Come on.”
“...”
“Tom.”
“Fine.”
Tom sat down and averted his gaze from Tord.
“Demon. Thought I had it under control during lunch. I didn't. Bam. Demon.”
Tord seemed to only be half paying attention to what Tom said, looking the hybrid up and down in awe.
“What’re you doing?”
“Oh, nothing, liten skrekkgutt. ”
Tom tilted his head, but didn't question it. At least Tord didn't seem to care about what he was.
Weird…
He’d expected him to have some kind of reaction. Any kind of reaction. Negative, positive, anything. But he didn't even care.
Did…
Tom pushed the thought under. He didn't wanna worry about anything other than getting home unseen right now.
“Do you know any shortcuts back home that don't involve any public streets? I'm feeling really sick and I don't want anyone to see me.”
Tord nodded and gestured down an alley.
~~~~~~~~
“Weird how you know this city’s alleys so well.”
“You learn shortcuts avoiding the cops.”
“Yeah… wait what the fuck? ”
Tord shushed him and opened the door for the confused Tom.
“Thanks. Now if you excuse me, I need to go to my room.”
Tom ran to his room, slamming the door behind him with his tail. Holy shit he was a hot mess right now, wasn't he!?
He turned into a monster; stole Tord's arm for a second; expected Tord, the person he swore he hated, to have some sort of reaction to his form.
Was he okay!?
No…
No, he wasn't okay. He needed to get his emotions out on something, anything!
…
Could he even play Susan with claws?
…
Might as well try, right? Bass strings were decently cheap at the moment and if he broke a string he could replace it.
He retrieved the checkerboard bass and strummed her a couple times to get used to the feel.
Sitting down, Tom didn't play any specific melody, just random chords that just fit together right. It felt weird, trying to hold a guitar pick in three clawed fingers.
“Hey Tom, you want me to warm you up a Hot Pocket… what are you doing?”
Tom jumped. He nearly dropped Susan and turned to glare at Tord.
“No- thing ! And yes, I want a Hot Pocket.”
“Alright, you keep doing ‘nothing’, åh lille monstrøse hund. ”
Tom growled in response to the bastard’s Norwegian. Tord left and Tom laid Susan on the floor for a moment. At least Tord didn't seem to care about his monster form.
Oh right.
That.
Why did he care so much whether or not Tord had a reaction to his monster form!? It wasn't like he actually liked that goddamn communist, right!? Right!?
Why would it be coming up now if it was that, anyway? If he liked Tord, then wouldn't that have been relevant before now!? He hated Tord. Hated him absolutely. He wanted to kill him.
…
Did he?
…
When Tord had come to the house this time, he looked almost… remorseful. Like he knew he fucked up and was willing to change it. How much Tom trusted that initially was… not a lot, actually.
But looking back on the way he acted…
Sure, he might've mocked Tom a few times but… he really seemed like he was trying to be better.
Did that mean…
No. Tom doesn't even want to think about dating anyone ever until he's absolutely ready.
…
He kept saying that every time he felt feelings.
God, he was a lost cause, huh?