Joining the army while pregnant wasn't Tord's best idea, but the guys were excited to go on vacation and it would seem suspicious if he didn't tag along. Fortunately the base's medics didn't check him thoroughly, and nobody was the wiser. Then, they were sent on their first mission to destroy an enemy base. Throughout the flight there, he was nervous and jittery. What if something went wrong and they were captured? What if he was shot? What if he lost the baby?
He shook his head, and applied his best poker face. He was supposed to be all over this, he was the overly violent one after all.
"This is our chance to show the world what we're made of!"
He almost didn't notice Edd's powerful speech. It was hard to focus with his unborn infant squirming in his gut. Turning to face away from his friends, he rubbed the area where he felt the head, trying to sooth them. He couldn't have them distracting him while he was on the battlefield. Fortunately, they decided to calm down, going back to sleep quickly. He smiled, cradling his belly. It was barely noticeable under both his hoodie and jacket, and he'd worn an extra tank top under his shirt just in case. He didn't want anyone finding out and exploiting his obvious weakness.
"It's finally our time to show that we're not just a bunch incompetent buffoo- oops."
The brunette had accidentally pressed the door release button, dropping the four of them out of the helicopter without warning. Tord yelled in terror as he fell through the open air, only to remember that he'd planned for this occasion. He fired up his jetpack, soaring through the sky. He did a barrel roll so that he was facing the sky, putting a hand to his belly. He laughed out loud as he watched his friends plummet with their parachutes, freezing when the force of the jetpack caused it to fly off the straps. He fell from the sky, passing his friends on his way down. The force of his rough landing broke his water, and he groaned in both pain and confusion. He then realized he had landed on one end of a board that was laying over a barrel, and his friends were going to land on the other side. Bracing himself, he waited to be hurled in the air, only to breathe a sigh of relief when the board snapped in two.
'Thank god I'm a few pounds heavier because of this kid.'
His friends got up, and Tom caught sight of something.
"Holy mongoose in a monster truck!" he yelled pointing at the large tank just sitting there.
"Last one in's a steam powered fish cake!"
They all piled in, Tord waddling over to the tank as he tried to mask his pain. In the end, he was the last one, but it didn't matter. His kid was starting to move past his cervix, alerting him to the fact that he was going into labor.
"Oh god, not now," he hissed, clutching his stomach.
The others were too preoccupied with getting themselves situated in the small tank, and Tord wondered if he'd have to give birth while crammed in this sardine tin with his friends. He lurched forward as the tank began to move, the others fiddling with the controls. He could hear screams from soldiers as they destroyed the base, but he was too worried about something else at the moment. The head had already slipped into his birth canal, and he bit his hand to muffle any sounds he was making.
"Why don't you come press some buttons with us?" Edd asked while slamming his hand on a large button.
"N-no thanks," he stuttered, breathing in sharply as his kid kicked at his walls, "I-I'm good."
He'd just have to deliver his kid himself, without alerting the others to what was wrong. He pushed lightly with the next contraction, his kid starting to move downwards. The tank lurched to the side, and Tord could've sworn he cracked his head open.
"Hey, knock it off!" he yelled, concerned that his baby was hurt.
"Sorry, it's hard to see the controls," Matt apologized.
He rolled his eyes, before squeezing them shut as another contraction rolled through him. They were starting to get closer together, and he was really starting to get worried. He'd hit the side of the tank really hard, what if his friends had indirectly snapped his baby's neck? He whimpered softly as he tried to find room to lean back. After asking his friends to shift around, he finally got a spot where he could sit, spreading his legs wide. His child's head had moved to crown, the widest point stretching him wide. He ran his calloused hands over the soft, smooth skin, getting a little bit of blood on them. The head in his hand moved downwards as he pushed, moaning in pain.
"What the hell are you doing back there commie?" Tom asked, turning around in their small confines.
He didn't have time to explain himself before the head slipped out of him fully, the shoulders starting to force themselves out. He screamed, curling his hands into fists. When the contraction ended, he uncurled his fists, only to find that his nails had created perfect crescents that quickly filled with blood.
"What's wrong Tord?"
"You okay commie?"
"Did he get shot or something?"
The trio then crowded around him, stumbling over each other in the dark. He nearly screamed again, one shoulder already out of him.
"I-I'm in labor. Please help me!" he cried out, grabbing Edd's outstretched hand.
Tom instructed him to lift his legs, and the eyeless Brit cupped the head in his hands. He then instructed Matt to remove his jacket, holding it under the child's head to support them as they slid out of him. He pushed with each contraction, whimpering and sobbing. He could've sworn there were tears rolling down his face. Tom quickly cleaned their airway, and they coughed before beginning to cry.
"It's a boy, Tord," he said, before placing the newborn infant on their 'mother's' chest.
"Oh my god," he breathed, rubbing his son's head gently.
Edd had brought the tank to a halt, carefully opening the hatch.
"Hillary!" he heard the brunette say excitedly.
He groaned to remind his friend why they'd stopped.
"Oh yeah, we need to get Tord medical attention!"
The two had a conversation, and suddenly Tom and Matt were lifting him out of the darkness. He chuckled nervously when Hillary looked him over once, twice, before training his eyes on the infant in his arms.
He sighed and said, "Lansin, one day your balls of steel are going to get you killed."