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“Edd! Have you seen my hairbrush!?”
It’s a typical morning. Everyone is beginning to wake, which means that Edd has to be on the move. There’s laundry to be started, breakfast to be made, and micromanaging to be done.
It’s not completely one-sided- just a little tip in the scale, because they do help, or at least try. But it’s not the same. You know, it’s like when a kid is trying to do something, and they don’t know how, so you might as well do it yourself. The effort is at least appreciated, though.
For the most part, everyone does their own laundry. The only exception being Matt, of course, because, well- could you imagine the disaster that would be? Actually, no, Edd doesn’t have to imagine. He’s seen it. It looks like entire loads being turned pink, and clothes being shrunk, and mountains of baking-soda-induced-suds coating the laundry room floor. They settled on rotating between who helps Matt do his laundry, for the sake of all of their own.
“Did you check underneath the-“
“Oh, found it!” The near-squeak was particularly loud in Edd’s ear as he passed by the bathroom holding his empty laundry basket. After cringing, Edd stopped in his tracks to check on the state of the bathroom on his way to his room.
“Where was it?” He commented absentmindedly, scanning the neater than the usual bathroom. That’s probably on account that yesterday, it was Tord’s turn to clean it. It smelled like bleach, and besides Matt’s various products strewn across the sink- everything was neat and orderly.
“Underneath the sink.” His eyes landed on the crinkle of Matt’s avocado face mask when he smiled, the smell was reminding Edd of how hungry he is. Edd returned the smile, then went back to his room to drop off the empty laundry basket.
Speaking of breakfast, Tord usually helped with that, too. He’d made coffee, or, keep an eye on the eggs and bacon while Edd took his turn getting ready. Maybe flip a thing or two, and if he were in an especially good mood, set the table. Edd appreciated Tord’s help- he probably helps the most besides Edd himself. The finances, taxes, and bills usually fall in the hands of Tord- if it weren’t for the Machiavellian nature of his roommate, Edd could probably comfortably resign as head of the house and pass it off to Tord.
However, every time that thought comes to mind, it reminds him of a passing joke the other had made about Tom and Matt. Something about them being completely useless, and dropping their belongings on the sidewalk before telling them to kick rocks- leaving the house to just being all to themselves. Tord emphasized, quite flirtatiously, that the house would be just theirs.
Edd still flushes quite a bit when remembering it.
It’s ridiculous, and mean. And when Edd said just as much, the Norwegian scoffed and quipped back about “how much further human civilization could have evolved if people weren’t so soft-hearted”.
But, yeah, Tord shouldn’t be the leader of anything.
After dropping off the laundry basket, Edd paid a visit to the last person usually awake.
“Tom? You alive?” It was in good nature, It’s not like Edd could outright talk to Tom about why he stumbled into the house at 2 am, piss drunk.
No response. Okay, now it’s time to panic. Had Tord really not rolled him on his stomach last night as he said to?
Edd knocked more firmly, tapping his foot, praying that Tord wasn’t psychotic enough to let their roommate aspirate on his own vomit-
“Fuck off.” Thank god.
Tom was already not a morning person, so it was expected. Add a hangover on top of that? You’re playing with a rattlesnake. It was satisfactory enough to leave him alone.
“Coming through!”
Upon turning, Edd had to press himself against Tom’s door to avoid smashing into a very excited Matt holding his precious Ringo.
“Be careful,” Edd replied with an exasperated huff, running his hand through his hair. Just a minor inconvenience- Matt would never hurt her, ever. Tom was also quite good with Ringo. He trusted both of them with her, Tord, on the other hand? There have been inappropriate comments about mutilation here and there. That always put a sour taste in Edd’s mouth. Sometimes he didn’t know where the line in the sand was.
As Matt rounded the corner to the living room, something odd caught Edd’s eye.
Tord’s room door was closed.
To clarify...at any other time of day, that wasn’t unusual. Tord was a private, secluded person. He rarely likes to sit amongst them as a group, and just hang around. He bustles about, quietly, in the morning and at night. He’s always the first up, and last down. Was something wrong?
Edd padded over to his door and pressed his ear gently to it. Just in case he was...you know. Everyone knows how Tord gets.
Nothing.
Then, he knocked. There was a sound on the other sound, something like a pained groan. Now Edd was beginning to feel the gnawing of worry in his stomach.
“Tord? I’m coming in...” Just in case he was in a compromising position. It’s not like Edd hasn’t- he can feel his cheeks beginning to warm. Knowing Tord, he would just tease him about it and use it to mess with his head. He didn’t need that right now.
Edd twists the knob gingerly and opens the door slower to give Tord even more of a grace period to get decent.
He’s not in a compromising position, he’s just laying in bed, sort of like a corpse. That is, until the light filters into his very dim room, and over his face.
“Hey, what’s the big idea?” His voice comes out garbled, the words are submerged in his accent, and he’s turning away from the light like he’s been burned.
Oh. “What’s up?” Edd watches the poor thing curl in on himself, pulling his red comforter over his head. Not quite enough, though, Edd can see his signature updo sticking out from under the comforter.
“Go away.” He’s being unusually (though not uncharacteristically) cold, usually he reserves the nastier side of his mouth for Tom. Edd was under the impression that they were quite close.
Then he hears it: a sniffle .
Now, this is even more puzzling. Had Tord been crying? Or rather...does Tord have the ability to cry?
Edd waits patiently, coming over with careful steps to lower himself on the edge of his roommate’s bed.
“I don’t feel well.” Ah. He allows Tord to go on if he wants to. “My head is pounding, and my throat hurts, and...”
Edd glanced over his shoulder to see the other slowly peeking his head out, “How do you say..?” he’s pointing, circling around his nose with his fingertip.
“You’re congested?” It’s really hard not to smile. He’s trying not to, because any form of adoration (that isn’t physical) frightens Tord.
“Yes!” He’s sitting up now, and Edd is just now seeing how tired he looks. There’s even heavier, darker bags under those eyes than usual- his hair is in wild, fluffy tufts, and his pale green eyes are dreary.
In short, Edd really wants to hug him.
Then, Tord’s moving. Pushing back the comforter to swing his legs over the side of his bed- and Edd is moving to stop him.
He places his hand around Tord’s forearm- surprised by how much warmer he is now that he’s sick, “What are you doing? You have to rest...”
Tord just looks at him.
“Look, Tord, I know you like to be productive, and..do whatever it is you do, but-“ Tord’s smiling. It catches Edd off guard, seeing more of his gap the wider he smiles.
“Edd?”
“Yeah?”
“I have to take a piss.”
Oh.
Edd promptly lets go, ducking his head so his bangs hide how embarrassed he is. A split second before Tord leaves the room, he swore he saw the Norwegian brushing his fingertips over where he grabbed him.
With a heavy sigh, Edd falls back onto the bed.
He waits, like the sap he is, for Tord to return. For some reason, there’s this...obligation, that Edd feels, to take care of him. It’s silly. And should never be said aloud- Tord isn’t one for the warm and fuzzies, especially verbal. He has his moments- when he asks about Edd’s personal art with genuine curiosity or offers more obscene ways to help Edd relax after a particularly stressful day of work. It’s pathetic the way Edd never says no.
But, it’s nice. Especially considering the bar that’s been set by the other members of their house. They’re nice, for sure, but they don’t pay any extra attention, not like Tord does.
The shuffling of socked feet catches Edd’s attention- he’s back. Edd takes notice that he’s wearing a t-shirt and sweats.
When Edd sits up on his elbows, he sees Tord frozen in the doorway, face twisted up like he’s about to-
Achoo!
Oh. My. God.
It’s squeaky, and Tord shakes his head in a way that makes his horns flop ever so slightly, scrubbing at his scrunched nose like it itches.
It’s cute.
“Ugh,” He moans, getting closer to Edd with a slide of his feet- like it takes so much effort to just stand. Edd is about to comment, tease him, but he’s caught off guard by Tord straddling his lap and throwing his weight on his chest.
“Oof!” Edd falls back flat on the bed from the force, hands flying up to the other’s back on reflex.
“I feel like shit.” Edd blinks rapidly, his heart fluttering at the same rate as his blinking. Tord’s moving- getting comfortable with his head on his chest. Laying on him like it’s not sending Edd’s heart into hysterics.
He notices. The Norwegian presses his ear closer to Edd’s chest, and murmurs, “Are you nervous?”
Asshole. Son of a bitch. Adorable fucker.
Edd can’t think of anything clever, his tongue is absolutely useless right now. Tord knows it because he lifts his heavy head to look at Edd and tell him so with his eyes.
When Edd looks back, he’s sure he’s red as a beet. He can feel his cheeks radiating. It looks like Tord is about to tease him more, but Edd will never know because Tord’s face is pinching up again.
Thinking quickly- Edd grabs one of his throw pillows and shoves it in his face.
Achoo!
Tord makes another garbled noise into the pillow, rolls off of Edd, and sniffs loudly.
“Just kill me now.”
Edd can speak again after dropping the pillow, “Calm down,” he sits up, fixing his clothes. It’s in good nature- he finds Tord’s fits of drama to be endearing. A scratchy cough fills the room, and Edd suddenly remembers that there are people to be fed.
“Promise me you won’t get up and try to act like you’re fine?” Edd’s standing now, running a hand through his messy bedhead.
Tord tilts his head, as he does, when he’s confused. Then, his eyes flutter knowingly. “Oh...I get it now.”
Huh? “I beg your pardon?” Edd didn’t like the mischievous glint in his eye.
“You’re expecting me to be that sick person,” there’s a quirk in his lips that Edd certainly finds unsettling, “you know, the one who refuses to admit they’re sick. Tries to do stuff. Nearly passes out dramatically in your arms because they won’t get some much-needed rest?”
Edd just gapes at him.
The Norwegian is shuffling deeper into his pillows with a pleased sigh, relaxing into the plush comfort they offer, “That’s not me. I like to be spoiled.”
Edd closes his mouth.
“So how about some chicken noodle soup?”
So that’s how this day is gonna go.
-
“What’s the soup for?”
The sun is comfortably settled in the sky by now, and there’s gentle snowflakes floating to the ground from where Edd can see out the window.
Edd has just turned off the eye cooking the bacon when Tom asks, the pot of chicken broth simmering and the savory smell spreading through the kitchen.
“Tord is sick,” Edd answers simply, setting the bacon of still sizzling bacon beside the eggs and pancakes. Tom snorts. Edd is too busy smacking Matt’s hand away when he reaches for the bacon to pay attention.
Matt frowns at the spatula pointed at him in warning, Tom continues, “So what? That doesn’t mean he deserves any sort of care.” Edd is about to reply- but, the clink of a bottle of Smirnoff against Tom’s coffee mug interrupts him.
Has it even been 12 hours? Edd should really say something.
“That’s your personal opinion,” Is all that’s mustered, because Edd is too focused on the dribble of alcohol pouring into Tom’s coffee.
“It’s the only right opinion.” Tom deadpans.
Tom doesn’t understand. He never will. And that’s just fine, because, quite frankly, it’s none of his business.
And yet, Tom presses, “I mean, what’s the last time he’s done anything selfless for anyone?”
“When’s the last time you have?” It came out a bit harsher than he intended.
That’s evident enough by the way two eyes stare at him, shocked, and maybe even Ringo looks up from where she is on the floor.
“Just-“ Edd feels embarrassed now, it really isn’t a big deal, and he’s pouring the soup into a bowl with one hand while grabbing a fresh cup of coffee in the other, “have your breakfast and enjoy it.”
And he leaves.
While walking down the hallway to Tord’s room, he can already hear the other’s voice in his head. I don’t need you to defend me. I can handle things myself. Back off. As if Edd coming to his defense is some kind of insult to his character, rather than just being a good friend. If...they can even be called friends.
Whatever, he made the coffee, he made the soup, Tord better appreciate it.
“I’m back,” Edd announces his presence, unable to knock on the doorframe because of his preoccupied hands.
Tord looks at him, sitting up carefully with his arm like it’s an effort. “Thanks,” he’s propped against one of his pillows.
Tord thanked him. Tom and Matt hadn’t.
Okay, maybe he should raise his standards a bit. A thank you is the bare minimum. Not to mention, the warmth that spreads in his chest at the little, involuntary smile Tord gives him is more than pathetic.
Or maybe it’s because Tord so rarely shows his appreciation through words, as intangible as they are, it’s the only way Edd knows how to communicate clearly.
“Hello? Stop being a sadist.”
Edd tunes back in with bemusement, “Wha...?” He’s only loosely familiar with that word, and it’s enough to make anyone blush.
“You’re dangling that stuff in front of me like a carrot! Don’t you know I’m suffering?”
Edd only half-consciously brings the soup and coffee over, completely stuck on the way Tord says “carrot”- and double stuck on the near whine of his voice.
His roommate accepts his breakfast with warm eyes and a big smile, abandoning the black coffee on his nightstand for the savory smell of chicken noodle soup. Edd watches from the side of the bed- hands in his sweat pockets-as the poor thing fumbles between trying not to burn his tongue, and trying not to drop the bowl in his lap in between sniffles.
“You’re gonna burn yourself-“ before even thinking, Edd is taking the bowl from a very unhappy Tord. “Just let me help, okay?”
There’s an incredulous look on his tired features, but, he leans back into the comfort of his pillows and submits. He’s grateful, the last thing he needs is the endless running of Tord’s mouth- Edd never wins.
The first spoonful is carefully blown down to a temperature fit for swallowing, then given to Tord. The latter sighs appreciatively after swallowing, and Edd certainly does not track the bob of his adam’s apple when he does…
Upon the second offering, though, Tord is just smiling instead of opening his mouth.
Edd bites. “What?”
“Oh, nothing,” Tord shrugs weakly, “I was just thinking they don’t deserve you.” Edd is left to stew with that while the norwegian takes a sip from his coffee.
“Tom and Matt?” He replies, a little dumbstruck by the comment.
“Yeah,” then he turns back to finally accept the second spoonful, “why do you put up with them? You’re an angel.”
Angel. Again, it spreads from his chest to his cheeks in a warm way. Oh god, is he blushing? He’s blushing.
Tord must notice, because he makes an inquired face, “Sorry, wrong word?” As if he didn’t expect Edd to react so strongly- because, of course, Tord has ruined him.
“No- it’s appropriate,” he’s fumbling, trying to ignore the quirk in the other’s lips, “just caught me off guard. To be honest, I put up with it because I just care about them. You know?”
“No.” Tord deadpans. Oh, right, Tord is incapable of caring about anyone.
While Edd gathers another spoonful, Tord clears the gravel in his throat, “So, what do you feeding me mean then?”
Jesus Christ. “It means-“ Edd gapes at the huge grin on Tord’s face helplessly, “It means you shouldn’t be talking right now.” The spoon is now impatiently hovering near his lips, which thankfully, open without another word.
-
“No- I don’t want to-“ Tord’s tugging his wrist away from Edd with a moan, who’s trying to get him out of his room and into the bathroom.
“You have to bathe yourself, Tord. You smell.” Edd insists, not letting go of the other’s wrist. It’s pretty easy, considering how weakened Tord has become from his fever. Otherwise Edd would be covered in bruises right now.
“Why?” That can’t seriously be a question. “Come on, I’ll help you into the tub.”
The norwegian freezes, “No! I’ll…I’ve got it.” He retorts, clearly understanding that this is a losing battle. The least he could do is retain his dignity.
“Alright,” Edd let’s go, watching his roommate drudge into their bathroom, “But I’m gonna stand out here in case you need help.”
There’s no reply, only the door shutting.
He hears the squeak of the faucet and the sound of Tord’s clothes hitting the floor through the door. Coupled with some periodic sniffles and water sloshing, it sounds like Tord’s got a handle on it.
Then, “Edd…” floats through the door weakly.
“What?” Edd replies, pressing his ear to the door to hear better.
“I need your help.” Ah. It feels good, hearing how defeated he sounds.
Told you so. “I’m coming in,” He replied, twisting the handle and opening the door slowly.
There he sat in the tub. Hugging his knees, blindly blearily at the soap, red-nosed. The water at least came up to his waist, but the facet was still going.
Edd sighs. He takes a seat on the edge of the tub after shutting the door, then reached over to turn off the faucet. Tord rubs his bangs from where they were stuck to his face away, explaining, “I sat down in the water and now I can’t move.”
Edd rolled up his sleeves in response, “Can you wash my hair? And…everything else.” The last part was mumbled in embarrassment.
“I’m never letting you live this down.” Edd said with a smirk, grabbing the bar of soap.
-
After that whole ordeal, Edd dressed Tord in clean clothes. A pair of sweatpants, socks, and a sweatshirt for the chills. There was an attempt to blow dry his hair- but ultimately, he insisted on laying down, so Edd had to wrap it up in a towel. He made sure to sneak a picture when Tord wasn’t looking.
Edd took it upon himself to take a load off too. The living room tv played some old cartoons on re-run while he sat comfortably on the couch. It was just him outside of his quarters for now.
The sound of socked feet caught his attention. “Tord?” Edd said in confusion, watching his roommate shuffle over to the couch, towel still on his head. “Can I join you? Can’t sleep.” He mumbled the reply. He’s starting to sound more like himself.
“Sure,” Edd shrugged, “should you be walking around?” He asked, watching the other sit very closely to him with a plop.
“I’m starting to feel better,” He immediately closed his eyes, crossing his arms comfortably on his chest. “Ah.” Edd felt the weight of the towel brush him as Tord laid his head on his shoulder. He didn’t mind.
“Thanks for everything,” Tord yawned halfway through his statement, then continued, “and sorry.”
“For what?” Before Tord could even reply, Edd’s nose tickled, and he sneezed into his arm.
“That.”
Fuck.