Chapter Text
By the time midnight settled over headquarters, nearly every office had gone dark. Only a handful of lights remained scattered through the building. The corridors, usually alive with hurried footsteps and clipped military orders, now echoed with nothing but the steady click of Tom's heels against the polished floor.
Tom checked the Red Leader's office first.
Empty.
His desk was immaculate, save for a stack of unsigned reports and a coffee mug that had long since gone cold.
"…Of course."
The conference room.
Empty.
The shooting range.
Empty.
Tom stood in the deserted corridor for a moment before letting out a long, patient sigh.
"…Gym." The word left his mouth with the same intonation of someone who'd solved the same mystery a thousand times before.
The gymnasium echoed with the rhythmic sound of fists striking leather. Tord stood alone before a heavy bag, his coat forgotten somewhere, his torso clad only in a fitted white shirt, sweat clinging to the loose strands of hair that had escaped his usual style. He didn't stop when Tom entered. If anything, his punches only grew heavier.
"You've been avoiding me." Tom complained.
Another punch landed.
"I've been exercising." Tord replied indifferently.
"You've been hiding." Tom shut the door behind him, harder than necessary. "You sent Lieutenant Ivanov to Siberia."
Only the slow sway of the punching bag answered him.
"You threatened him." Tom argued.
Tord struck the bag once more before speaking.
"I transferred him."
"…To Siberia?" he was flabbergasted.
"We needed someone there."
"No, we didn't."
"Circumstances changed."
"You're unbelievable." Tom crossed his arms.
"We needed personnel."
Tom stared at him completely annoyed.
"Nuh uh."
"Yeah uh."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Are we going to keep repeating ourselves?" Tord finally turned around.
"Until you stop lying."
"I wasn't lying."
Tom stepped closer, crossing the room, stopping only when they stood an arm's length apart.
"You reassigned him eleven hours after he commented on my appearance."
"He inappropriately commented during a briefing."
"He just said you had a pretty secretary."
"He said I had a pretty and sexy secretary." The next punch landed with enough force to send the bag swinging.
"…You remembered the exact wording." Tom was left incredulous upon realization. He quietly analyzed how Tord's shoulders tensed, his clenched jaw and crinkled nose. Tom already understood what was happening, he was just waiting for Tord to admit it.
"He also asked if he could take you to dinner." he grumbled.
"There it is." Tom pinched the bridge of his nose trying to hide his smile.
"What?"
"The actual reason."
"I don't know what you mean." Tord looked away.
"You sent a perfectly competent officer across the continent because he flirted with me."
"He'll survive."
"That isn't the point."
"He'll even enjoy the snow."
"Tord."
"He likes winter."
"Tord."
"What?" he whined.
"You abused of your authority because you got jealous."
"I exercised my authority."
"You exercised your pettiness." Tom mocked. "You know, I almost believed you." Tom looked away. "I thought perhaps he'd committed espionage."
"He committed something."
"What?" he looked back with a raised brow.
"He looked at you."
Tom couldn't help it. A laugh escaped before he managed to bite it back.
"You're an absolute child."
"I've been told."
"Mostly by me."
"My favorite source."
"You should be ashamed of yourself." Tom tried to remain composure when faced by his charm, but his flushed face gave it away.
"I'm remarkably comfortable, actually."
Tom shook his head.
"I came here intending to yell at you…"
"And?"
"…I'm still going to."
Without another word, Tord walked toward the exercise mats and lowered himself into position.
"What are you doing?" Tom frowned.
"Push-ups."
"I'm in the middle of scolding you."
"I can deal with both."
Tom watched him lower himself once.
Twice.
Three times.
By the fifteenth repetition, his pace had slowed.
By the eighteenth, his arms trembled.
"Your form." Tom clicked his tongue.
"It's fine."
"It absolutely isn't."
He stepped closer. One of Tom's polished lacquered black stilettos — Tord's own ill-advised gift — came to rest lightly between Tord's shoulder blades. Just enough pressure to make the next push-up noticeably harder.
"There." Tom crossed his arms. "Now do it properly."
"…You enjoy bullying me." Tord let out a strained breath that sounded suspiciously close to a laugh.
"I'm just helping you." Tom smirked.
"You enjoy stepping on me."
"That too." Tom pressed down just a fraction more. "Also, you deserve this."
"I sent one man to Siberia."
"You sent one innocent man to Siberia."
"He called you sexy."
"So?"
"So…" Tord pushed himself up with visible effort before collapsing back into the plank. "…So I didn't like it."
Tom smiled despite himself.
"There he is."
"What now?" Tord muttered.
"My jealous boyfriend." Tom teased, voice light with something dangerously close to affection, as if the words were meant only for Tord to hear.
"Don't call me that while I'm suffering." Tord groaned.
"You seem to be enjoying yourself."
"I contain multitudes."
Tom's smile widened.
"You're pathetic."
"But I'm your pathetic." Tord looked up at him, completely unashamed.
Tom’s expression softened for a fraction of a second.
"…Tch." He looked away. "And why exactly did you send him away?"
"…"
"Tord."
"…"
"I'm waiting."
"…"
"You know I'm not leaving until you answer."
Tord let out a defeated sigh, lowering his forehead briefly to the mat.
"…Because I love you."
Tom's expression remained perfectly composed.
"I didn't quite catch that."
"Oh, you're cruel." He gritted his teeth.
"I learned from the Red Leader."
"You learned a little too well."
"One more time." Tom leaned in, resting one elbow casually on his raised knee, adding weight to Tord's back.
Tord looked up at him with the weary expression of a man who knew he'd already lost.
"…I love you."
Tom’s smile widened.
"I was wondering how long you’d keep your pride intact."
"You manipulated me."
"Yeah, I did."
"Mean."
"You sent a man to another continent because he called me pretty."
"He wanted a piece of my cake." Tord's jaw clenched at the memory of the man's words.
"Jealous?" Tom exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh.
"…Very."
Tom's leg left Tord's back so that he could crouch down beside him.
“You enjoyed this.” Tord's faced Tom.
“Immensely.” Tom didn’t even deny it.
“You’re a menace.”
“You adore me.” Tom’s smile softened just a fraction. His hand found Tord's hair, ruffling it once before standing again.
"Finish your workout."
"I was hoping for a reward."
"You'll get one."
"Oh?" Tord's face suddenly lighten up.
"When you stop exiling my staff."
"That's negotiable."
Tom pointed toward the punching bag.
"Finish."