Hi! So this was something that came to life after my fandom bestie and I were thirsting over some Tom Nook art. You know, as things usually go. As of now, this will be a one-shot, unless we manage to come up with something else!

For reference, this is the art that started it all! - /khahoootjj/status/1254475060854681603

The house was unnaturally quiet once the boys went to bed. Unnatural but not unwelcome as Tom Nook walks down the creaky stairs, letting out a long sigh after having wrestled two very energetic children into bed.

The house was a mess, and no matter how much time spent trying to pick up all the toys those two rascals managed to scatter around the place, there was always more once he came back into the room. Tom steps on one of Timmy's toy cares, hearing the plastic shatter underneath his worn-out boot. Oh well, he should've put it away, he thinks before he continued to descend the stairs.

He made it four steps down before going back and picking up the destroyed car.

Tom tosses the remnants of the toy into the trash bin before grabbing a cold beer from the fridge, too lazy to heat up some food. He settles into the old, work out couch he's had for years, bringing his feet up to rest on the equally worn out coffee table. One swig on the ice-cold beer and he can already feel himself relax…

He hears him rather than sees him at first, the unmistakable chuckle that he knows far too well coming from the corner of the kitchen. The room is dark, and he can only make out the silhouette of the only person who would even know how to get inside the house without breaking a window or the door. For a second, Tom considers making a run for the bat he keeps hidden behind the entryway table by the door…

Redd laughs again and Tom can basically imagine the smug smile on his face. "You haven't changed one bit, Nook," Redd laughs, holding up the bat absentmindedly and Tom hates that he knows him this well.

Without thinking, Tom glances up towards the stairs, the scattered toys a stark reminder that the boys are fast asleep in their beds upstairs. He can't make too much noise; he can't beat Redd's ass without waking them. Maybe Redd doesn't even know he has children in the house. Tom schools his face back to normal, not wanting to giveaway that fact-

"They're cute kids, you know" Redd breaks the silence, the timbre of his voice unsettles the calm and collected persona Tom is trying to convey. He spoke quietly, yet Tom hears it loud in his ears over the buzzing of the fridge and the ringing of his ears.

"They're loud as hell and messy as all get out but you were always good at keeping things in order," Redd reminisces as he twirls the baseball bat carelessly between his fingers. He finally looks at Tom, that perpetual look that made it seem like he was narrowing his eyes at you.

Tom hated the way Redd was looking at him. His body tenses as he mentally tries to strategize a way to get him out of the house while making the least amount of noise possible. If he could only get a hold of the bat…

Redd lets out a long, suffering sigh as he rolls his eyes before placing the bat on the counter. "I'm not going to do anything to them. Jesus, you're still so fucking paranoid." Redd saunters his way over to stand on the opposite side of where Tom's sitting, a wall of poorly drawn children's art taped chaotically on what the boys call "the Bulletin Board". "I'm here on business actually, and we both know I keep things professional."

Tom realizes he hasn't spoken a single word, his frustration and annoyance coming off of him in waves, words aren't even totally necessary at this point. Redd continues to stare at him in that way and it just-

"How did you find me?" Tom questions, tries to instill as much displeasure into his words as he can. "How the fuck did you find this house?"

Redd has the nerve to sigh again, as if he is the one being inconvenienced. "A professional never reveals his secr-"

Redd doesn't get a chance to finish his sentence as Tom thrusts the coffee table with one powerful kick, the hard wood slamming into the other man's shins before pinning him against the wall with a strong forearm into Redd's neck, moving so fast Redd doesn't have time to bring his hands up to stop him.

"Hey! Hey! Wait, fuck!" Redd struggles against Tom's hold.

"If you're here to get some petty revenge, I swear I'll kick your ass. I don't even care if I wake them up," Tom snarls into the other man's face, pressing into the man without even knowing. He was trying to intimidate him, he told himself.

"Can you stop choking me, you animal!" Redd finally manages to push Tom off of him, straightening his leather jacket and his shirt. "I talked to Isabelle and she said you might need some help. One last job…" His words trail off as his eyes move to look upstairs, his narrowed gaze softening just a fraction.

"Don't…" Tom didn't know what he wanted to say, he didn't know what he was thinking.

"You're not the only one who misses their mother, you know," Redd snaps back angrily. "We all lost her too, so stop being fucking selfish for once and hear me out."

Suddenly drained of any energy to fight, Tom steps away, not realizing he was standing close enough to touch Redd. "Why the fuck would Isabelle tell you that about me?"

"She said you might need some help. Kids aren't cheap, you know," Redd winced as he rubbed his aching shins, knowing the bruises will be there tomorrow. "Just listen to me, okay?"

Tom shakes his head in disbelief as he runs his hand through his hair, tugging on the strands to keep his hand occupied because he just wants to punch that dumbass so bad. He opts to sit on the couch again, his once cold beer is now lukewarm, but he doesn't care at this point. He gives Redd a blank stare, lifting an eyebrow when the other man doesn't start babbling like he loves to do.

"It's one job, same crew we've had before," Redd comes around to sit on the coffee table, leaning on his knees towards Tom. "This is the big one, the one we've been waiting for."

Tom was instantly intrigued. Tempted. He might've left the business, but that didn't mean the business left his heart and mind.

"The boys will be set for college or whatever they hell they want to do once they're older." Redd is still leaning close; his cologne enveloping Tom and he forces certain memories from resurfacing right now. "So…you in?"

Tom doesn't know what he hates more.

Is it the way it takes him less than a minute to agree to Redd's terms and conditions, shaking his hand without any protest?

Or is the way Redd's eyes glint and his lips twist into a smirk as he leans back, hands supporting him as he places them on either side of him, the buttons of his too tight shirt straining with the effort to stay buttoned?

"Just like the good old days," Redd purrs, and Tom knows this is a bad idea.

A very bad idea.

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