#AUGH *pointing at R Tord* PUT THAT THING BACK WHERE IT CAME FROM OR SO HELP ME

[baconcolacan]

What would happen if R Tord and S Tord subconsciously switched places? Like no one would know that they had swapped and they were free to do whatever.

Oh my god, like a mental swap instead of the fully physical ones we’ve been doing?? Good lord! Thats horrible (When it comes to R Tord swapping with S Tord at least)

First of all, R Tord would be extremely disoriented when it first happens, and of course he’d feel all kinds of fucked up because S Tord’s body has chronic pain, plus he’s older so things will feel all wonky and achy.

He’d probably throw a fit when he realizes he needs mobility aid (the leg brace and crutches) and try to think up of a way to get out of his situation and back in his own universe (because he’d be damned if this clearly incompetent version of himself ruined all his progress back home.) Besides, where the hell even is he?? Some sort of house?? Dear god, dont tell him theres a version of him who settled down somewhere to be a nobody hermit-

“Elskling?? Have you found your files yet? We really have to get back to the office now.”

That voice. That definitely shuts him up. He might be gaping a little when he turns to the door and finds Thomas of all people coming in and walking towards him. He looks older, definitely, but thats clearly Thomas, or at least a version of him.

….and he’d be lying if he said his eyes weren’t straying somewhat.

This Thomas moved with grace, his steps were light but actively aware, he carried himself with confidence and a slight haughtiness his own Thomas didn’t quite have yet. His posture nearly reflected Tord’s own, deceivingly docile but ready to move into action when needed.

This Thomas was every bit of potential he had ever seen in his own Thomas.

His hands moved on their own, reaching out in a familiar gesture he wasn’t used to, and to his surprise, Thomas willingly stepped into his hold, smiling as his arms wrapped around his neck.

“What…did you say??” He didn’t mean to speak in Norwegian, but frankly he’s a little shocked.

Thomas hummed as he looked up at him.

“Your files? You dragged me all the way back home because you needed my help finding them??”

He nearly jolted out of his skin when this Thomas replied to him in perfectly fluent Norwegian.

Suddenly he wants.

Well….maybe this whole universal mishap won’t be so bad.

A little fun is allowed.

He feels himself grin as his hands wander along this Thomas’ body. “Well…what if I lied?” He teases as he pulls him closer. “What if I might have forgotten something else??”

Thomas lets out a little purr- and wasn’t that interesting?- but he leaned his head back a bit even as Tord tries to move in.

“Cute, but no, in case you’ve forgotten, you have a public address today, Red Leader.” He nearly feels himself choke when Thomas fingers the collar of his shirt with a smirk. “But maybe later, if you feel up to it.”

Red Leader?

Oh….how fun.

Maybe this universe isn’t all that bad.

“Do you promise?”

“Of course sir.”

He knew it was probably meant to be teasing, but the rush he feels at Thomas addressing him like that nearly has him dizzy.

He gives in to his wants and pulls Thomas in for a kiss, somewhat rough but deep enough to make him breathless.

Once they break apart, Thomas seems a little winded. “Oh wow, that was…” Then he paused, biting his lower lip. Tord nudges him a little.

“Good? Great even?” He chuckles.

Thomas seems to snap out of whatever thought took him and just smiles at him. “New, more or less.” He leaned up for another kiss that Tord happily gives him. “I don’t hate it at least.”

Tord laughs and lets go of him, walking around him to get out of the room.

Tom looks after his husband’s retreating back with a frown he doesn’t see.

Something’s…..off…..

—

STord would probably be panicking when he comes to.

He doesn’t feel all his usual aches, his right leg doesn’t feel like hell when he puts too much weight on it, his right arm feels heavier and looks a bit clunkier than he remembered.

Also what the hell was up with his uniform?!

Why is there so much gold?? Holy fuck, he feels like a douchebag, this was the kind of design he might have vibed with when he was younger, maybe around like 15 to 17 years old, because he was a right asshole at that age, but now it was just making his eye hurt.

Fuck what the hell?! He made the mistake of giving himself a once over, jesus, he looks stupid.

One glance around him clued him in to the fact that he was at a medical ward, one that he was familiar with, a medical ward in the Red Army.

But….things were wrong.

There were slight differences, the hallway was too long, there was an extra door where there shouldn’t be, some staff members that he saw, who should have been fired a long time ago, were suddenly back and working in the wards???

Not only that, but he had this exact medical ward torn down and renovated years ago! Because they secured enough funding for a central hospital so that the HQ buildings could just have a dedicated clinic each.

What the fuck is going on???

“….Sir…?”

He snapped out of his daze when a doctor beside him hesitantly piped up. When he moved his eye toward him, the man flinched minutely, making him frown.

He knew he was intimidating, being RA’s commander, but his medical staff rarely reacted like this towards him.

“Are you here to visit the patient?”

“Patient?” His voice surprised him, it sounded less rough than what he was used to after years of tobacco abuse, he sounded younger.

Oh hell no.

He snapped his gaze towards the opaque window of the door he stood in front of, and focused his gaze, ignoring the nervous stammering of the doctor beside him.

That…..wasn’t his face.

It was, but it wasn’t.

Then the doctor said something that made him freeze.

“I-I mean, the prisoner sir. Thompson.”

…Thompson???

Prisoner?!

Tord grasped the handle of the door and barged in, slamming it in the face of the doctor who tried to follow behind him.

His breath caught in his throat at what he saw.

Tom was sitting up on a hospital bed, but his arms were strapped down by the wrists at his sides. Bandages covered his poor love- or at least a version of him, but to Tord, he was still always going to be his kjaere- almost covering any patch of skin he could see, and on the skin he could see were a litany of scars that marred his flesh.

He stopped himself from flinching when Tom looked up after noticing his presence, his eyes were sunken in, surrounded by a dark shade of black, he grinned at him, but the look was wild and cornered.

There was genuine contempt in his eyes.

Tord felt his heart ache.

Tom huffed.

“Back so soon commie prick?”