He thanked the stewardess as she poured him another glass of wine, the alcohol shining like rubies in the mid-morning sun. She took care in tipping the bottle just enough so he wouldn't end up wearing it, but pouring fast enough in hopes of spending less time serving him.
The air around him seemed to hum, and he leaned back in his chair with a content sigh, bringing the glass to his lips. It was sweet and rich, wonderfully spiced - perfect for Autumn. He took a few swallows, savouring the taste with a pleased smile.

He finally lowered the glass from his mouth, swirling the wine gently as he hummed to himself. He couldn't believe he was this calm, he thought he'd be more excited for something of this signifigance. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the altitude.

"Bet you've never flown like this, huh?" He glanced behind himself with a sly smile. Dozens of people, all dressed in blue, nodded to him or verbally agreed from the cabin behind him.

_________

"Dad! I can't find my shoe!"

"Fuck," Tom swore under his breath, nudging his coffee towards the center of the table with the back of his hand. It was one of his favorite mugs, a gift from Edd that read 'I Put Out', with a shitty clip art fire extinguisher, his way of supporting Tom's career.

At first, his friends weren't particularly accepting of his firefighting gig - they were terrified something would happen to him, but the strong resolve they'd all grown to love carried him through, and he was about a week shy of his eight year anniversary of first stepping foot in the station. The work was hard, his body toughened and broad from daily, rigorous workout routines, but he was beyond happy to help others, even if it meant he wasn't always home.

He tapped a finger on the rim of the mug, humming softly. "Make sure Erick doesn't try to drink this while I'm gone, babe." Tord's eyes closed as he laughed softly, nodding. The warm light creeping through the blinds stretched and warped in the cup as the coffee jittered to a halt, but it held Tord's features perfectly, illuminating his smile. His lip was finally reconstructed a few years back, thankfully with minimal scarring, but most importantly, his smile was still gorgeous. His hands lifted to guard the cup, draped in his favorite fluffy maroon robe.

Tord's red prosthetic was in storage now, its sleek black replacement peeking out of his sleeves. It was his latest design, freckled with space-themed stickers near the elbow from Erick, while white, intricate and flowing patterns were drawn on the bicep by Maggie. Most importantly, it was far easier to control. This design didn't seize up during stress, which was incredibly important when it came to raising two lovely, but very loud children, though as of June third, they were very loud teenagers.

"I can't promise anything, he is your son." Tom rolled his eyes at that, standing up and side-stepping to get out from behind the table. Though the dining area looked wonderful in the corner of the kitchen, it was a tight squeeze. He watched as his husband eyed him up, dressed in a fitted t-shirt and navy slacks. "Damn, hot stuff, wanna stop, drop, and roll on top of me?"

Tom scoffed, trying not to give in and laugh. He forced the most serious face he could muster, crossing his arms over his chest. "And that puts us back to zero days since the last firefighter pick-up line, you were doing so well too...You almost made it to four days, Tordle." Tom feigned disappointment, jutting out his bottom lip. The act didn't last long, both of them erupting into laughter mere seconds later.

"Dad!"

Tom stiffened in attention, looking quickly at Tord. "If we get home at a decent time, I'll take you up on that offer." The Norwegian snickered at that, watching Tom hurry out of the kitchen to his daughter's aid. "Comin', Mags!" He called back, speed walking to the front room.

As far as Tom was concerned, Maggie had every right to bark orders - it was picture day, practically the end of the world for a little girl in year eight. She was up early, texting Matt frantically for hair and wardrobe advice, even though he and Edd lived just down the street, and he could've stopped by instead.

It took three years after the kids were born for them to move out of the apartments, opting for two neighboring houses closer to the countryside. Edd and Matt lived together, in an awkward on-and-off relationship that often rendered them nothing more than roommates.

Once Tom was in her sight, Maggie scoffed softly, frustrated. She was in a mid-thigh length brown dress with a dark cardigan over the top, shuffling around the living room with one Mary Jane on, ruffled socks barely poking out of the shoe's lip. Thanks to Matt's advice, she tamed her usually frizzy waves, opting for a side part, held partially behind her ear with a cream colored hair clip.

It almost caught Tom off-guard seeing her so well dressed - not only did she normally thrive in sweatpants, but she looked like a little adult! It seemed like only yesterday that he was teaching her how to walk, and here she was now, speeding across the living room.

"Dad, help me look!" She huffed, crouching to peek under the worn leather sofa.

"You look very lovely, pumpkin." Tom mumbled, joining her desperate search. "Where'd you take it off?"

She stood up straight, giving up on the couch to look at her father. Tom noticed she was wearing eye makeup, a light gold shimmer that brought out her vibrant blue eyes. Did Matt teach her that too? "By the front door," she gestured to it, leading Tom's eye with her finger. "But only one was there."

Erick was standing awkwardly on the carpet runner, realizing they were pointing at him. He toyed with the hem of his navy jumper, his gaze hitting the floor. "Did you check your room?" He asked softly, looking at them with his eyes alone.

"Yeah, I looked everywhere I could."

"What's she looking for?" Tord's voice carried into the room, clearly still sitting at the dining table.

"My shoe, papa!" Maggie called back, her head still on a swivel to search the room.

"Which one?"

She seemed less annoyed to elaborate to Tord, responding quickly. "The right Mary Jane. Have you seen it?"

There was a moment of silence as Tord thought, and Tom was convinced Maggie was going to explode if he didn't respond right that second.

"Yeah, it's in the laundry, baby."

Her face brightened at the realization. "Thank you, Papa!" She hurried off down the hall, followed by the uneven clunk of her single-shoed foot bouncing off the hardwood floors.

Tom turned back to face Erick, his head bowed as he scrolled absently on his phone. He paired his navy jumper with darker pants, resembling what Tom used to wear. Funnily enough, his hair was closer to Edd's when he was young than anybody else, though you could actually see his eyes.

"You all set, bud?"

Erick nodded, pushing his glasses up with his thumb as they slid, never looking up.

"I've been ready since six."

Tom stepped closer, putting his hands in his pockets. "...Doesn't school start at eight?"

Another nod. "I wanted to make a dent in the comics you gave me."

Tom perked up - he thought Erick might've forgotten about those old copies of Tank Boy that he passed down to his son for his birthday. After all, it had been a few months now. "What do you think?"

"They're really cool, I really like how he's drawn." he finally looked up, soft green eyes meeting Tom's as he pocketed his phone. "Thanks, dad, they're perfect for my collection."

"Hey, don't mention it!" Tom grinned, patting Erick on the back. "I'm just happy they're out of storage again, it's one of my favorites."

"I can see why," Erick laughed, his arms bent limply at his sides like a zombie. "Private Bowling Ball."

"Listen," Tom rolled his eyes, running his hand through his quiff of hair. "The buzzcut is a timeless style." Erick covered his mouth with his hands, snickering. He had an amazing memory, holding onto every story his family told, even the dumb ones. He loved to relay them to his friends however, so Tom had to be selective.

Maggie's footsteps hurried back, the sound leading as she rounded the hallway's corner.

"Did you find it, angel?" Tord's voice returned.

"Yep!" Maggie strode to the couch, shouldering on her book bag. Her body perked up as she remembered something. "Oh, papa?" She called behind herself. "Could you call Uncle Pat for me? I wanna tell him I really liked yesterday's episode, but I don't have his number."

Tord appeared in the doorway, leaning against it with a proud smile. He looked just as handsome as the day they were married - glass eye, faded pale scars, and all. Tom could spend the whole morning just looking at him. "Yeah, we can call him in the car." The Norwegian nodded. "I'll write down his number for you too, though."

"Thank you!"

Of all the people to bounce back into Tom and Tord's lives, Pat was the last. He understood that Tord did what he had to do, but it took him a full year to properly reach out to them after the army dissolved. The Polish man took that year to properly grieve and process his eight years in the red army, and a relationship cut brutally short. He'd gone home to Poland and, though his house was empty, he wasn't alone - he and Lars ran a highly successful podcast: Under Red Oath, Secrets of The Red Army. Of course, they started it with Tord's full permission, detailing adventures that the public practically devoured. The Red army, in its prime, was a mystery to anyone uninvolved, and their podcast wove a rich, exclusive story. The episode Maggie was talking about detailed their gorey trip to ASDF Land.

"Everyone ready?" Tord asked, the remaining three family members glancing among each other before nodding. Tord raised a skeptic eyebrow, looking between his children. "...Lunches?" They both perked up at the realization, scrambling past the Norwegian to the kitchen counter.

Tom loved Erick's lunchbox, it was tin, splattered in vibrant reds and yellows, reading ZOMBIES ATE MY NEIGHBORS! - one of Edd's favourite old school arcade games. Maggie's was a more modest canvas bag, simplistic plants hand painted onto the front.

Though Tom didn't like to admit it, he really wished he could find some common ground with Maggie. It was so easy when she was little; she'd mosh to whatever music he played, laughing and smiling the whole time. She used to be so proud to show him off at bring your parent to school day, telling her whole class how he was a hero, and dragging him down the halls to show him all of her artwork.

She still spoke to him, still asked him for help, but seemed far more reserved when it came to her personal time. Tom was trying his best to be more than his father ever was, but he seemed to be falling short, and that thought terrified him. The last thing he'd ever want was to become the person he hated most.

"Alright, party people, to the car!" Tom forced a dramatic voice, pointing at the front door with a puffed up chest. Erick pulled the door open, laughing softly as he stepped onto the porch. Maggie followed him quietly, though she was, at the very least, smiling. Their parents trailed behind them, Tord twirling the keys on his finger.

Since Edd and Matt took the Edd Mobile, the couple opted to buy a blue car to rival their old, red clunker. Beaded charms the kids made in primary school hung from the rear view mirror, the seat pockets were stuffed with Maggie's scripts and Erick's original drawings, and the programmed radio stations were an awkward mix of heavy metal, new age, and dainty pop music. Edd named their car for them - Hilary.

Once everyone was situated, the music was selected, and they were on the road, Tord took a hand off the wheel to press a few buttons on the console. Maggie lit up from the back seat as the dial tone rang throughout the car. It stopped short, with a soft shuffle on the other end.

"Pat's disposable dildos! You suck 'em and fuck 'em, then you can chuck 'em! How can I help ya this fine day?" The kids erupted into laughter, making Patryck realize his mistake as he swore under his breath.

"How's it goin', man?" Tom piped up, though he was nearly impossible to hear over the twins.

"I didn't know I was on speaker!" Patryck whisper-yelled, quickly going back to his normal voice. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay Uncle Pat, I thought it was funny!" Erick piped up, still trying to catch his breath. Though the Polish man couldn't see her, Maggie nodded, covering her mouth as she continued to laugh.

"Is that how you always answer papa's calls?" She giggled, finally able to get the words to leave her lips.

"Nah, he has other ones," Tord cut in, glancing back at the twins. "Don't repeat any of them until you're older, okay? I don't wanna talk to your teachers about swearing again."

They both nodded, their laughter slowing down.

"What'd you need, Tord?" Patryck asked awkwardly, hoping to move on from his introduction.

"Oh! I wasn't calling for me," Tord mumbled, slowing for a red light. His eyes flitted to the rear view mirror, watching his daughter. "Maggie wanted to talk to you."

She perked up, slotting her body between the front seats to get closer to the speakers. Her body lurched awkwardly over the center console as the car began to move again, her voice jumpy. "Hi, Uncle Pat!"

"Hey, Gigi! How's everything? Did you get your birthday presents in the post yet?"

"I'm good!" She smiled, Tom watching as the little dimple on her cheek appeared. "And we did. Thank you for the watercolors!"

"And thanks for the boots, I actually have them on right now." Erick added with a laugh.

"Oh, sweet! Glad you like 'em!" Though Tom couldn't see him, he knew Pat was smiling. "They're actually the same type I used to wear back in the army, I was surprised I found them in your size."

"Speaking of the army," Maggie piped up, her fingers drumming the cup holders. "I really liked yesterday's Red Oath episode!"

"Mags, sit normally." Tord muttered, looking at her through the corner of his eye as Patryck's voice returned.

"Aw, thank you! Did you have a favourite part?"

Maggie leaned back into her seat, nodding. "Your weird blood loss dream was super funny, but the way Uncle Lars snorted when you said you saw dad's plumber crack in the arcade took the cake."

"Wait, you saw my ass?" Tom piped up, sitting up straighter. "Oh my god, you talked about my ass in your podcast?"

"Briefly," Patryck reassured, though he ended with a soft chuckle. "I was in and out of consciousness, and when you came into the arcade it was just the ass city skyline."

"Ass city!" Tord echoed with a wheeze, gripping the steering wheel as he tried to contain himself. He looked seconds away from pissing his pants, struggling to focus on the road.

"I'm gonna roll out of this car." Tom groaned, covering his face with his hands. His voice came out muffled. "I'm gonna roll out into traffic, oh my god, millions of people are gonna hear about my 'ass city' now."

All of them were cackling at this point, spare for Tom, who would've rather been lit on fire. No, maybe he'd rather be ran over like he originally planned, that would be far less flashy.

"Oh crap, we're almost to school," Maggie perked up as she realized, eyes glued to the window. "Promise you'll come by soon?"

"Promise!" Patryck agreed, "Maybe we can have a spa day, or a sleepover, I'll do your hair. And Erick, we could hit a theme park."

Erick perked up and nodded, as if Patryck could see him. "Yes! We gotta hit the Grinner this year, I think I can finally handle it."

"I'm down, too!" Maggie answered, her voice practically vibrating with excitement. "But only if I get to do your hair."

One of the things that surprised Tom when Patryck visited the first time was the length of his hair. In the pictures Tord showed him, it was roughly shoulder length, so that was what he expected. When they met him in the airport, it shattered his expectations, easily past his shoulders, nearing mid-back. Now, it was even longer than that, and he usually wore it in an elegant braid, leaving his bangs out. Maggie loved to play with his hair - he was like one of those horrifying hairdressing dolls, but far more pleasing on the eyes. From the neck up, he looked like a fucking pirate, scar and all. Below that, however, he looked as if he would run a wonderful book club, dressing in thick knits and cardigans.

"Yes, ma'am." Patryck's smile was audible, "See you guys later, love you!"

"Bye, love you!" The twins said in near-perfect unison, Maggie holding out the final syllable long after Erick stopped.

Once Tord hung up, Tom finally let go of his face. "Feeling better?" Tord hummed, carefully pulling onto the curb of the school's lot. Tom shook his head.

"Mags, you gotta play me the clip where he talks about my butt. Then I'll know peace."

"Don't worry dad, I think I have it memorized." Maggie reassured, awkwardly squirming in her seat to slide her backpack on. She cleared her throat, dropping her voice in a shitty attempt to mimic Patryck's. "Out of the darkness, I saw our boss's future husband's asscrack sticking out of his pants. He had such a harsh farmer's tan on it that it felt like staring into a flash bang, like, instantly burned into my retinas. I swear my life flashed before my eyes, and I think I was hallucinating cheeks until the medics found me."

Tord couldn't help it, he broke down laughing, almost in tears, making Tom's face grow redder.

"Oh my god, I wonder if it's too late to get him to edit it out..."

"C'mon, dad. That's funny!" Maggie smiled, though her father didn't return the same sentiment.

"No, hey, it's okay to be embarrassed," Erick reached forward, putting a gentle hand on Tom's shoulder. "Just please don't let it ruin your day, okay dad?"

Tom, despite his thoughts of breaking Patryck's microphone, smiled at his son, giving him a soft nod.

"Come on, guys," Tom attempted to seem orderly as Tord continued to holler. "You got all your stuff?"
"Yeah."
"Yep!"
The Norwegian finally began to calm down, struggling to compose himself to see his kids off. "Bye, guys, we love you! Have a good day."

"Love you too!" Maggie beamed, crawling out of the back seat first.

"Bye, love you!" Erick followed suit, sliding across the back seat until his boots hit the asphalt. He made a face at Tord as he closed the door, making him laugh all over again.

"...I can't believe she memorized that, but not her lines." Tom chuckled, his eyes following his children as they strolled through the schoolyard, even as Tord began to drive off. Erick had a cute skip to his walk, while Maggie swung her lunchbox happily at her side, chatting with her brother as they got closer to their group of friends.

"Hey, the play isn't until November, she'll be fine. It's only September." Tord stopped at the crosswalk, waving a handful of kids across the street. "Plus, she's got a lot on her shoulders, it's her first lead."

"Oh I know, she'll ace it." Tom paused as the car began to move again. "I hope she knows how happy I am for her."

"Did you tell her?"

A nod. "Yeah, she was on her phone though, so...I don't know if she heard me."

"I hear ya," Tord chuckled, "I think I could blow up another robot next to her and she still wouldn't look up." His fingers flexed against the steering wheel, the servos of his right hand quietly whirring. He seemed to be fighting himself to speak, pulling his lips into his mouth as he thought. "...You're not like him, I know you're thinking it."

Fuck, of course his husband would realize what was eating away at him. He knew Tom better than anybody.

"I know, but you know I-"

"Nuh-uh, Mr. Larssin. No buts." Tord cut him off, not wanting to hear it. "You're an amazing dad. You've done everything perfectly, you haven't even raised your voice at them, let alone hit them." He slowed for another traffic light, looking over to the Brit once they were fully stopped. "You're nothing like your father. You've been the best husband I could ever ask for."

"Thanks, I..." Tom let his eyes fall to the dashboard as the light changed, the car lurching forward again. "I really needed to hear that today, babe."

Tord let out a soft "Pft," before he spoke, his voice velvety. "As if I don't remind you everyday how much you mean to me."

Tom reached across the center console, resting a hand comfortably on Tord's thigh. The robe's fabric began to heat up under his hand, as did the Norwegian's face. He looked like he was fighting his own brain to keep his eyes on the road, wanting to focus on his husband.

"We're almost home, don't get me going or we'll crash." Tord laughed nervously, the noise dying in his throat as Tom gently rubbed across his thigh, a knowing smile on his face.

"Hey, you got to tell me how much you love me, I wanna show you how much I care, too." He glanced out the windshield, watching as they turned onto their street. "Besides, I have time before my shift, just like we hoped."

"How long is your shift?" Tord asked softly, hoping to keep his mind off of the gentle in and out motion of Tom's hand. He was merely rubbing back and forth, but high up enough on Tord's leg that he couldn't ignore it.

"They're gonna have me for three days," Tom sighed, his hand slowing to gently squeeze the meat of Tord's thigh. Tord bit his lip, pulling into the driveway a little too quickly, the curb making the car jump. The Brit chuckled at that, loosening his grip to slide his hand down the length of Tord's thigh. "...So I know I'll cherish you even more."

"You have a point," A smile pulled at the corner of Tord's mouth, and he looked at his husband as he slid the keys out of the ignition. Now that they were home, he could play along. "I'll be so lonely without you..."

Tom returned a soft grin, finally letting go of Tord's leg to unbuckle himself. "Come on, let's get inside."

The Norwegian nodded, undoing his own seat belt with jittery fingers. "Ok, but no table. We can start there, but we can't finish there again."

Tom hummed in acknowledgement, his door shrieking as it opened, Tord's following not a second later. They tried not to rush to the front door, struggling to seem normal.

Tom couldn't put into words how much he adored their sex life. He'd heard so many couples talk about the 'spark' dying after a few years, both parties growing hateful because of it, but theirs was far from out, it was a fucking wildfire at this point. They were just as passionate as they were thirteen years ago, if not more - the kids took up so much time that it made every minute alone feel far more special.

The moment they closed the door, Tom was pressed against it, the taller man leading him into a fiery kiss, his hands holding either side of Tom's face. Tom followed his husband's lead happily, his hands finding the Norsk's waist as he let their lips dance at Tord's pace. He was more desperate than Tom originally thought, hungrily asking for more as his hands roamed the Brit's body. Tord groaned softly into their kiss, separating for air with small gasps. He gently rested his forehead against Tom's, the latter closing his eyes to relish being this close to his husband.

Thankfully, they'd solved the pregnancy mystery with a trusted doctor, so it would never happen again - it took a lot of explaining, arguing, and apologies for Tom to understand that Tord's DNA experiments had corrupted both of them, the Norsk getting the worst of it - growing an entirely new organ, connected parasitically to his intestines. Since Tom was injected with extremely similar DNA, they could almost be described as a mated pair, as funny as Tom thought that was. It was a miracle that nothing ruptured during the pregnancy, especially during the birth. Tord had it surgically removed before the kids turned two. If they ever wanted more children, they'd either adopt, or get a family dog. Nothing was worth risking Tord's safety like that again.

"Couch?" Tom's voice was hushed, their shared breath slowing.

"Sure," Tord smiled with a gentle huff as Tom closed the gap for another kiss, not wanting to waste any of their time. Tord melted into it with a soft, loving sigh. His hand slid lower, palming Tom through his slacks and pulling a groan from the Brit's throat. They separated with curt huffs and sighs, Tord's hand never slowing. "Come on, babe." He smiled.

_________

"I mean, the hall was loud, maybe nobody heard her?" Erick suggested, setting his lunch bag on the table. The courtyard was bustling, as it always should be. There were even kids along the treeline, the crisp rattle of the leaves drowning out their conversations as they sat on the grass. The twins and their friends were lucky enough to snag a table this time, usually they ate along the school's wall, on the ground.

His sister was buried too deeply in her own head to respond, so Erick spoke again, hoping to reel her back in. "Mags, it's not that bad..."

Maggie groaned, her hands sliding down her face. They clamped onto the table, her head staying low. "It's bad, it's so fucking bad..." She felt the bench rattle as Erick began to bounce his leg. She half heartedly slid her lunch out of the bag, setting her sandwich in her lap. "I mean, she called me 'Faggie', and I ran away like an idiot." Maggie shook her head, letting her eyes stalk an ant across the table. "...I should've said something."

"Dad could probably take care of her." Erick thought aloud, drumming the table with delicate fingers. "Imagine, Amber's ass over our fireplace, mounted on oak."

Maggie's eyes shot up to meet her brother's, burning holes through his lenses. "I can't tell dad, are you kidding? He'd laugh at me for being bullied like this! He doesn't know about my girlfriend either."

"He's gay, you're gay, I think you'll get on fine. Besides, Amber needs to get a life. You're like her hobby at this point." Erick bit a healthy chunk from his sandwich, covering his mouth with his hand to hide it. "She's like the Maggie Fanclub President." He spoke with his mouth full. Another friend joined them, David, on her brother's side of the table. "...Did Bailey hear?"

"I don't know, I left her alone." Maggie shook her head. She stared down at her sandwich, pressing her fingers into the pillowy bread with a wavering breath. Papa made it for her, it was her favourite, but she just...wasn't hungry.

"Well, here she comes, we can ask her."

Fuck, fuck!

There was no way this could end well, Maggie ditched her! That had to upset her, if it didn't, she was a saint. What if she broke their relationship off? There was no way she'd want to be with a coward...

"Hey!" The girl in question waved, her smile beautifully punctuated by her dimples as she crossed the remainder of the courtyard. The breeze played with her hair in ways Maggie wished she could, perfect chestnut waves flowing around her face. God, even the way she walked captivated Maggie. She didn't look beaten up or angry, which was a great sign.

Bailey and Maggie met through the theatre club, in year seven, and Maggie was smitten the moment she heard Bailey's first audition. She had a gentle, lower soprano voice, not painful or squeaky like the other girls who sang before her. Maggie had the same range, though she hardly ever sang. She ran lights until Bailey encouraged her to audition. She was so proud of Maggie for landing Cinderella, and she showed it through plenty of hugs and kisses.

"Hey," Maggie croaked, trying her best to perk up for her girlfriend. She slid onto the bench, nudging her knee into Maggie's as she met her eye. She had forgotten it was picture day, still wearing her burgundy uniform skirt. "Sorry I ran, I hope it didn't freak you out."

Bailey nodded with a soft hum, setting her own lunch bag on the table. She quietly dug through it, glancing around at her group of friends. "I'm just thankful she didn't try to get physical."

"Did you hear what Amber said?" Erick piped up, keeping his voice hushed. Bailey nodded again, pulling a purple thermos from her bag.

"Faggie." She muttered. She didn't speak for a moment, cracking open the thermos to reveal some sort of cold noodle dish, definitely leftovers. "Did you hear what she called me?" Maggie played it back in her head, brows furrowed. She shook her head. "Male-y."

The friend on Erick's bench stood up with a shove against the table, breathing harshly through his nose. "Where is she, I'm gonna shove her fucking lunch bag into her like a tampon."

"David, chill out." Maggie tried to soothe, only to have him slam the table with both hands.

"No! Who does that ugly little leprechaun think she is? She can't talk to you guys like that, I won't let her!"

Erick put a hand on David's shoulder, likely trying to bring his mind back to the table, back to his friends. His scrawny chest was heaving, breaths whistling out of his nose. "Let me do it, I'll be subtle with it. If we're direct, we get caught."

"Well what's your plan, then?" He tugged David closer by the shoulder, whispering quickly into his ear with colourful hand gestures, the other boy nodding excitedly. "Shit, dude...that's genius."

Turns out, Erick's plan was beautifully simple - Amber always slammed her books onto her desk at the beginning of their shared lecture, and Erick just so happened to have an extra ketchup packet from the mess hall. It was technically her fault for ruining her pristine white shirt when the packet exploded. He let Maggie do the next part, taping over a healthy amount of the faucets' nozzles in the nearby girl's toilet - making them spray directly at the user.

They were fortunate enough that Amber was even stupider than they originally hoped, and she tried every taped sink, until she was sopping wet, the stain world's bigger, swallowing up the front of her shirt.

It wasn't as direct as the group would have wished, but they laughed until their sides hurt, knowing her class photos were bound to be humiliating. Sure enough, Amber didn't have a change of clothes, and her face was blotchy with tears as she sat in front of the photographer. Though she'd find out they did it eventually, that would be a battle for another day.

The three-thirty bell rang, and the regular students filed out into the courtyard to be picked up, or to board small shuttles. As for Erick and Maggie, they had theatre and comic clubs waiting for them. They promised to meet in the courtyard once they were through, then they'd call papa.

Though Maggie couldn't say much about the comic club, she loved her own rehearsals. They were still merely reading the scripts, but she was in a room full of kids who understood her, who let her have a moment as Cinderella, and not Maggie Larssin - the most miserable girl in Norwich.

When it came time to leave half an hour later, Bailey walked happily at her side, practically attached at the hip. The pair held hands and chatted, making plans for the weekend and gossiping. Erick was already in the courtyard, flagging them down with excited laughter. The comic club had finally finished their Dungeons and Dragons campaign, and he gladly talked both girls' ears off with all the nerdy shit they could stomach. They'd started it last year, so there was a lot of ground to cover.

"Shut up for a sec, I should call papa."

Erick scoffed, his lips a thin line as he waited. After all, he was getting to the 'good part', though he'd been saying that for the past five minutes.

The dial tone droned into her ear as she tapped her Mary Jane on the pavement, waiting for her father to pick up.

"You've reached Tord's inbox, say something, and say it quick."

Maggie hung up before the beep, groaning as she dialed again. Maybe he was in the bathroom, or cooking dinner. He almost always answered on the first call, or at least texted that he was busy.

"You've reached Tord's inbox, s-"

Redial.

"You've rea-"

Redial.

_________

Tom wiped his hands on his apron, cursing under his breath for what felt like the hundredth time today. His phone was on the dining table, screaming out Ska to every other firefighter in the station. It was his turn to cook dinner, and he had started a little late, so the crew was already irritable.

"Frankie, can you hand me th-" Before he could finish, the old man in question was leaning out of his chair with it, determined not to get up from his prime seat. Tom took it with a soft thanks, focusing back on the stove as he accepted the call.

"Dad, can you come pick us up?"

Tom adjusted the phone until he could hold it securely with his shoulder and cheek, stirring the pot as the gears in his head began to turn. "Wasn't your papa supposed to get you?"

"He isn't answering his phone, I called like seven times." Maggie huffed against the receiver, making a terrible noise blast into Tom's ear. "It's starting to get dark, Bailey even got picked up already."

That's...odd. usually, Tord would leave the house before they even called, he'd wait in the road for hours if he had to. "...Let me call him, Mags. I'll call you back."

"You've reached Tord's inbox, say something, and s-"

He dialed again, cutting the heat on his soup as his own body began to burn. Tom immediately assumed the worst, it was a hard to break habit - as far as he knew, Tord might've merely been napping.

"You've reached Tord's inbox," The answering machine droned, "Say something, a- Thomas..." It was interrupted with a voice so timid Tom barely caught it. His breaths were shivering, the receiver scratching with the sudden bursts of noise.

"Tord?"

There was some sort of overpowering hum, like a car. It was louder than his voice, making it difficult to hear the norsk. Was Tord driving? Did he crash on his way to get the kids?

"Call-...Call my friends." Tord barely breathed, his voice wavering. "You know who."

"Wait, what? Are you okay?"

"I love y-" Just as suddenly as the voicemail was interrupted, Tord was gone, the line dead. Tom was left frozen, the phone to his ear as it beeped, trying to tell him that Tord wasn't there anymore.

For a moment the world stopped, and Tom was alone, breathing heavily as he stared lifelessly down at Tord's contact photo. It was from when the twins were still babies, and he was feeding them in their high chairs. The kids were smiling, but Tord's face was censored by his own hand as he flipped off the camera.

Tord had never sounded that afraid in his life, not in all the years Tom knew him. The mere mention of his friends told the brit that this wasn't a car accident, or an accident at all. Something was seriously wrong.

"Frankie, tell the Chief I'm gone, okay?" Tom stumbled over his words, frantically untying his apron behind his back. "Family emergency."

The older man nodded, his eyes widening. "Of course, is everything okay?"

"I-...I don't know."

Tom wasn't thinking rationally anymore, and he stupidly decided to check the house for Tord, as if it were merely a prank call. The house was empty, the lights off, the norsk's robe still draped along the couch, waiting for its owner. His trip thankfully wasn't pointless, however, as he remembered Tord's address book - Tom only had Patryck and Lars' numbers, and he was certain Tord meant all of his friends.

Tom called Edd on the way to the school, filled him in on the situation, and read out the phone numbers of the people who lived the farthest so they could get a head start. Tom didn't envy them in the slightest, he could never handle a plane in this condition, and some of them would take well over two hours to arrive.

"You never called back," Maggie huffed, climbing into the backseat and scooting across to her side. Erick followed closely behind, and Tom nearly drove off before the door was closed. "What happened?"

Tom felt a pit form in his stomach, his hands shaking around the steering as he looked at his children in the rear view mirror. What the fuck was he supposed to say? All he had to go off of was his theory, and it wasn't a pleasant one.

"He's, um..." Tom's brows furrowed as he tried to string the words together. "He's gone, I don't know where."

"Gone, what?" Erick's voice was pulled tight, in a tug-of-war between confusion and fear. "What do you mean, dad?"

"Yeah, what's going on?" Maggie chimed in. "Did he, like...leave you?"

"No, he's missing," Tom mumbled, trying to focus on driving. He was flying through the neighborhood, the scenery whipping by. The kids got worryingly quiet, and Tom rushed to reassure them. "It's gonna be okay, though. We called his friends, and they're going to help us find him."

"Dad, by 'his friends', do you mean the army ones?" Erick asked, watching tensely as Tom nodded. That sent both twins into a panicked spiral, Maggie softly crying as her brother grabbed the passenger seat with both hands and squeezed its shoulders. Tom wanted to join them, he wanted to slam his hands into the steering wheel until the airbag deployed, he wanted to scream until the windows shattered, but he couldn't. He could never let on how scared he was, not to them.

"Guys, we're gonna find him."

"It's not that," Maggie whimpered, her head hung to hide her blotchy face. "He's in more danger than we think if you're calling them. We've never had everyone all together."

Tom nodded, more to himself than to Maggie. She had a point, Tom didn't realize how much bigger this could be. For all he knew, Tord could already be dead. He might've heard his voice for the last time, terrified over the phone. "I know, pumpkin..."

The twins flew out of the car the second it was parked, not wanting to waste a second. Tom followed them through the front door, only to meet Edd, Matt, and their old neighbors, sitting anxiously on the couch. Turns out, Edd thought the pair could help, since Tord still called Eduardo once a week, maybe he'd have insight that the rest of them didn't. They brought their own suitcases, which were leaned in the corner closest to the door beside Edd and Matt's.

Eduardo seemed better than the last time Tom saw him, though he was starting to grow a scraggly mullet. He always sent Tord flower arrangements from his shop on holidays, they were still penpals after all this time. He rushed to be here, still in his apron and uniform. Mark, on the other hand, was in normal, comfortable clothes, and was very well-kept. Both neighbors waved as Tom's eye found them, and he gave them a small nod - as much as he would love to chat, he had to iron himself out first.

Tom pulled Edd into the kitchen, making sure to keep his voice low.

"Did Eduardo have anything?"

Edd took a moment to speak, his brow furrowed as he searched his racing mind. "Tord called him around two today, he was on his way to the corner store and wanted a chat." The brunet wasn't looking at Tom anymore, brown eyes tracing the kitchen tiles. "He didn't even make it down the street before he started swearing, threatening someone. He uh... hung up on Eduardo."

Fuck...

"How about the soldiers? Did they give you clues on what's going on?"

Edd nodded, picking at the buttons of his shirt as he tried to find the words. He already looked worn ragged, no doubt from hearing Tord's friends react to the news. He twirled his pointer finger around one of the buttons on his chest as he spoke.

"Lars. He was short with me, but he said something about 'leaving the fucker alive'." Edd even shrugged, as if this was casual conversation, not Tord's life at stake. "He didn't listen when I asked. He just said he needed to say goodbye to his family, and hung up."

"How long until he's here?"

"He'll be first, his flight's only an hour. Jan and Essi are picking up Patryck, they'll be two, maybe longer."

"Picking him up?" Tom echoed, raising an eyebrow.

"Jan has a jet, he said Patryck lives near a private airport, but has no plane. The puzzle pieces fit together perfectly."

Tom sighed, his hands sliding down his face. He wished he didn't have to wait for them, he wished he knew where Tord was right this second. He didn't want to wait two full hours before they'd get filled in on the situation. Hell, would they even know where he was?

"Wait, you said Essi?" Tom whispered, cocking an eyebrow. "He's bringing his sister?"

Edd smiled to himself, nodding. "There wasn't any room for debate, he said she's trained in combat, and knows her way around guns. He said-" The brunet cleared his throat, putting on a crappy Finnish accent to mimic Jan. "Not bringing her is an insult to Tord."

Tom scoffed at the impression, stratching his cheek.

He had only met Jan over the phone. Of all of Tord's friends, he was the most elusive - in all thirteen years since the army dissolved, he never visited, not once. Tord affectionately described him as a doomsday prepper of sorts, drowning himself and his sister in weapons and seemingly unnecessary preparation, no doubt they were going to bring whatever they could cram into the jet with them. It would finally be useful, considering the types of crowds Tord tangled himself in.

Tom realized that Edd was looking at him expectantly for a response and flinched to attention, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"I hope he's right."

While they waited for the ex-soldiers, Tom and the kids packed their essentials. The twins ended up splitting a suitcase, cramming whatever they could fit into their designated half. Maggie rolled it to the other bags before balancing her CD player on top. Then, with nothing else to do, the wait began to eat away at Tom even more, spreading stress through his body like an infection as he sat on the couch.

Tord could be dead. His mind kept screaming it, Tord could be dead right now, and you did nothing to stop it. You just sat on your damn couch.

The doorknob squeaked as it turned, and an all too familiar face walked in. The twins perked up, Maggie waving with a soft smile.

His hair was more salt than pepper on the sides now, the brown hair barely dominating the top, despite the man being only thirty-nine. He smiled crookedly, and strode deeper into the house with a familiar, stiff-legged limp. He stopped right in front of Tom, holding a gentle hand out.

"How y'holding up, Tommy?"

The Brit half heartedly shook Lars' hand, offering him a weary smile. "Could be better."

Lars gave Tom a tired grin as he patted the brit's shoulder, almost smacking it. "Ditto."

The twins flagged the ex-soldier over to their corner of the room, tearing Lars away before he could offer up more to his friend. Maggie hugged him so hard around the waist that Tom feared she'd snap him like a coffee straw. Once the excitement of a new arrival wore off, the grate of time continued to whittle away.

The final trio made Lars' travel seem like teleportation at this rate. Tom couldn't blame them, they lived the furthest away, but the seconds crept by even slower with his nerves. Jan said they picked up Patryck, Edd heard both of them speak, but part of Tom feared they'd never make it. They were practically strangers, spare for Pat, so the Brit was willing to get the ball rolling without them if he truly needed to.

"Do y'need anything, Tommy?" Lars' voice softly found his ear, the man's hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "Y'look like you could use a drink."

Tom waved him off, tracing the trails of the wooden flooring with his eyes. "I don't do that anymore."

"Oh, my apologies." His hand was like a furnace, heating through Tom's shirt effortlessly, though it was more comforting than not. He didn't speak for a moment, letting the air fill with the ex-neighbors and twins' chattering. They were discussing Maggie's play and Erick's recent campaign, likely trying to keep their minds off of what was happening. "How come?"

"Hm...?"

"Y' don't drink." Lars repeated with a soft, amused smile. Tom didn't know if he was being unreasonable, but he didn't want to unpack his entire life's story in the middle of his living room, within earshot of his children. Besides, he didn't owe Lars a full explanation.

"It's complicated." His voice left dry and flat, and hit Lars' ear in a way he clearly didn't enjoy. He wasn't upset, no. Far from it - he merely let out an amused huff, shaking his head a bit.

"You're a tough one to crack, Tommy." The hand on his shoulder finally slid off, the ex-soldier walking around the front of Tom to sit beside him, making sure to keep a healthy gap. "Y'don't have to tell me, though. It's your business, but..." He waved his hands as he spoke, weaving shapes into the air as he tried to find his next words. "Why don't I show ya something? A little trust building exercise."

Tom hesitated, testing to see if Lars was joking. He'd visited the family a handful of times, sure, but the Brit didn't know enough to assume anything of him. Despite Tom's critical stare, the Scot kept that damn confident air about him. Realizing Lars wasn't pulling his leg, Tom nodded.

He watched in silent confusion as Lars wrapped both hands around his left calf, hoisting it up until it crossed over his right. Now that he wasn't walking on it, his leg seemed like dead weight, something he had to force into position.

"I'm assuming Tord never told you about this, and you don't listen to me and Pat's show," His voice was soft as ever, almost jittery with amusement. "If y'know, then hey, now y'get to actually see it."

Lars delicately hooked his fingers under the cuff of his pants before tugging them up, revealing an ugly, argyle patterned sock. He kept dragging his pant leg higher, higher, until-

The area of his exposed leg was a few shades darker than the rest of his body, with no visible hair.

"Are you wearing nylons?"

Tom's question amused Lars more than he anticipated, the Scot's chest vibrating with laughter. He shook his head.

"That's just the foam, Tommy."

Foam...?

Tom watched with bated breath as Lars rolled his vibrant sock down, revealing a minor gap in his ankle. Anticipation turned to abject horror as he dug his fingers into the hole, the unmistakable tear of velcro following suit. Peeling back the foam revealed a metal pole at its core.

Oh, well, that explains it.

Tom knew plenty of people with prosthetics, hell he was married to one! He mentally hit himself for not realizing sooner.

"...How'd you lose it?"

"It's so ridiculous, but I stepped on a landmine when I was a boy." He spoke with a strange fondness for it, tucking the foam back into place. "It's amazing I didn't lose more, but...Paul built the original replacement. It was amazing work, considerin' he was only nineteen." He pushed the velcro until it reconnected, his hands gently smoothing the foam. "I actually gave the one he built t'Pat, once I could afford a proper one."

"I'm sure he appreciated it." Tom's soft smile definitely eased some of Lars' tension, the Scot nodding.

"He did, he actually told me he was hopin' I'd do it for years. He joked about tearin' it out from under me." Tom's eyes scanned over Lars' fingers as he drummed at the foam, noticing that his right thumb had a blunt, square tip, the nail wider to compensate. Must've lost the tip in the explosion, too. "Oh wait, y'should see this too, while I have it out." Lars perked up, both hands wrapping around the calf again. He spun the prosthetic until the toe of his shoe was facing the floor, dragging the pant leg higher.

There was a portly flower halfway up the foam, drawn in faded purple and blue markers. The artist must've tried to sign under it, a rough, unintelligible chicken-scratch.

"My Isla gave me a tattoo." Lars smiled with a hum, tracing the art with that stocky thumb.

Tom remembered the first time he met Lars' daughter. The twins were ten at the time, and they couldn't get enough of the loud, bubbly one year old. Scarlett, her mother, was endlessly helicoptered by the pair, impatiently waiting for her to be relinquished for more playtime. Erick in particular latched onto Isla, and was heartbroken when the little family had to fly home. Though Scarlett hadn't visited since, Lars flew out with Isla at least once a year after that.

"She was so excited when I finally let her." Lars' voice welled with a warmth that Tom could feel. "I'm happy I got t' take a piece of 'er with me on this."

"Maggie did the same thing with Tord's." Tom murmured with a pang, nodding to himself. Lars smoothed his pants back over the prosthetic, a gentle hand returning to pat Tom's shoulder. He must have noticed how the Brit deflated at the mention of his husband. "I'm sorry I was rude," Tom's apology left suddenly, delicately, catching Lars off guard. The Brit picked at his cuticles, hanging his head. "There's just a lot going on, and..."

"You're fine, Tommy." Lars reassured, drumming his knee with soft fingers. "I'm positive you have more worry than all of us combined." They let the chatter of the room take over, buzzing in the back of Tom's brain as he scratched his cheek.

"...It's my father."

Lars perked up, leaning closer. "Hm?"

"I don't drink because of my father." Tom sighed tensely, meeting Lars' eye. He tried his damndest to keep his voice low, not wanting anyone else to hear. "He was an abusive drunk, and I never want to be like him, not if I can help it."

Lars let out a soft "Oh," nodding slowly, awkwardly, as he processed it. He grabbed the limb again, Tom watching silently until his shoe reconnected with the floor. "I'm sorry for offering, I hope I didn't upset you."

"Consider us even." Tom's shoulders bobbed with a silent laugh, and he gave the Scot a reassuring pat on the back. "You're okay, Haukland."

"Just okay?" Lars let out a cartoonishly fake scoff, pretending to punch Tom's shoulder. The accent he put on was nearly British, but horrendously long-winded. He clearly was trying to sound like an older woman, though it came off more as some sort of whining British hag. "Oh, how dare you, young man..."

Erick's phone loudly chimed, pulling both men from the conversation.

"Sorry! Text." He didn't raise his head, skimming his screen silently. Without too much warning, he was on his feet, rushing for the hallway.

"Where are you going?" Eduardo called behind himself, turning to watch the boy hustle. Maggie shrugged beside the Latino.

"Pat says their cab's pulling up, and he says Jan wants one of the eyes."

"That's really cryptic." Mark snickered, earning a nod of agreement from Eduardo.

"No, it's..." Tom trailed off, watching his son disappear into his room.

Tord has had multiple glass eyes, upgrading every few years as his socket changed. Erick thought they were amazing, and asked if he could keep the past three pairs, a collection of sorts. Naturally, Tord agreed - he was going to toss them otherwise.

"Why does he need the eyes, bud?"

Erick sped back through the hall, cradling the most recent ex-prosthetic in both hands. "Retina scan."

With perfect timing, almost like clockwork, the front door swung open. Patryck came through first, his face worn and hands jittery. He abandoned his bag near the door as he rushed to hug Lars on the couch.

"I wasn't supposed to see you until my birthday," Patryck groaned into Lars' shoulder, earning a laugh from the Scot as he rubbed over his friend's back.

Next was someone Tom didn't recognize - asymmetrical short brown hair, young, and wearing a colourful scarf despite the weather, hiding her mouth. The only thing that gave her away was her eyes, the same pale blue he'd seen in photos, barely hidden by her glasses.

"Hi, I'm Essi. It's nice to finally meet you all... Despite the circumstances." She waved awkwardly to the room, stepping closer to Matt and Edd to let her brother through.

Effortlessly towering a foot over his little sister, the dead serious expression on Jan's face made the group freeze in place. The only difference from the photos Tom had seen was his hair was longer and a bit curlier, the newfound stubble on his jaw, and the smile lines that etched deeply into his cheeks, though his face was far from happy. He hadn't even lost any muscle, just as broad as he was in his twenties.

Erick didn't waste a moment, crossing the room to wordlessly offer Jan the prosthetic.

"Thank you, Erick." The Finn finally smiled, plucking it from the boy's hands with two delicate fingers. "And hello, everyone, I'm so sorry we took this long."

"It's fine, we're just happy you're here." Tom reassured, watching the blond cross the living room in just a few steps, stopping at the mouth of the hallway, in front of a family photograph. "Now, what are you doing?"

Jan peered over his shoulder at the other man, his expression a bit dumb. "Did he not tell you about this?" Tom shook his head, puzzled as a soft smile painted Jan's features. He turned back towards the portrait, grabbing hold of the frame. "You're in for a treat."

He flipped the photo up on a hinge, revealing a small, wall-mounted scanner, thankfully only large enough for one eye at a time.

Tom cursed under his breath as the prosthetic's scan was accepted and a small portion of the wall beside it began to press inward. It didn't sink far before it glided to the left, revealing another cavity, though this one had a small light on the ceiling and was painted a strikingly deep blue. The only thing in it was a spiraling railing that disappeared into the floor.

How the fuck did Tom never stumble across this?

"Watch your step if you follow me, it's steep." Jan ducked as he entered the room, grabbing onto the railing. "Lars, maybe stay put, I don't want you to fall."

"Y'don't have to tell me twice." The Scot chuckled.

"Did-...Did you guys know about this?" Tom sputtered at his children, watching Jan casually disappear down the staircase, his clanging footsteps echoing up to the group.

Both twins nodded, Maggie more than happy to elaborate. "You were never home, so it was easy for papa to build. He just bribed us with candy to keep quiet, and we weren't allowed in."

"Well he's not here, if you wanna see it." Eduardo cracked, standing up from the couch with a stiff pop of protest from his knee. He walked over to the stairwell, followed closely by Erick and Maggie. "He told me all about it, but I've never actually seen inside."

Tom finally stood up, watching his kids disappear down the staircase, still chatting with the ex-neighbor. Patryck sat down beside Lars, content to stay above ground with his best friend. Matt seemed more interested than Edd, though neither seemed keen on investigating with the group. Essi didn't follow either, standing beside the stack of suitcases as she rolled the tail of her scarf between a few fingers. Reluctantly, Tom ambled over to the staircase, tightly squeezing the golden railing as he stared downward.

Had he really been gone long enough for Tord to have a whole room built right under his nose? Tom assumed it was a lab, but did that mean Tord never truly gave up experimentation? What the hell was even down here, and why did Jan know more about it than him?

The brit drew in a shaky breath, closed his eyes, and took the first step downward with a bit of a wince. His legs felt like mush, ready to effortlessly collapse underneath him from nerves alone. This was almost too much to take in.

Tom knew next to nothing about Tord's military life, and now he was about to be drowning in the worst part of it.

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9845 words

AND THE LONG AWAITED SEQUEL BEGINS! Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, here's your present from me ^_^ hope you enjoy it so far, more coming soon! I'm so excited to finally elaborate more on the characters outside of the army

If anyone's interested, I can finish the sex scene and put it in my smut drabble book! It's a full, finished scene, I just cut them off for the sake of time XDD

Oh and by the way, Isla is pronounced "Eye-luh", (like the river) for anyone confused