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Going Public	By : HobNobsAndTea Category: Individual Celebrities > Tom Hiddleston Views: 1628 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Neither I, nor any of the writers know Tom Hiddleston, his PR people, nor have we ever met him. We do not make any profit from this story other then the enjoyment of writting it. All characters and events are entirely fictional.

Chapter List
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("Hob Nobs and Tea" A Facebook Round Robin group dedicated to Tom Hiddleston and the characters he plays. Everyone is welcome! If you'd like to join us just come on by and click the join button and we'll approve you right away! Because there is adult content, it is a closed 18+ group.)
"Hob Nobs and Tea" :https://www.facebook.com/groups/795876723809511
Written By: Jade Hagedorn and Marian K. Welty
Scenario: real time/real Tom in London, England
You and Tom have been friends with benefits for some time, when work schedules allow. It's been a few months since you've seen each other even though you've phoned, texted and Skyped. The tension between you two is palpable.
You finally get time together and he invites you out to dinner with some production. You have to dress nice and be on your best behavior. As soon as he picks you up, you realize this is THE date. The date that makes you into more or permanently friend zones you.
You're seated next to Tom at large round table in a fancy restaurant. There's an empty chair between you and the wife of one of the other men. The table has just ordered.
You find yourself not interacting with the other guests so much as starring at Tom. You don’t even realize it as you’re just lost in thought about a great deal of questions you have had pop up since he called you to ask you out without warning, just from the out of the blue.
“Darling?” Tom says when one of the other guests addressed you and you didn’t respond.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” You say looking around the table not even sure who it was that was talking to you. “What was the question?”
“Would you like some wine?” The man sitting closest to you repeats a little astonished you didn’t hear or notice him.
“Oh yes. Please. Thank you.” You say a little embarrassed. You were a million miles away. You might as well have been watching Tom on screen in one of his movies. Instantly you pick up the glass and take a drink with a smile and nod to let them know you approve of the wine choice.
Tom smiles and leans a little closer to you, “Are you alright?”
“Yes. Just a little . . . . um . . .” You pick up your glass taking another drink a bit deeper this time. “Good wine.” You say with a smile. Tom arches a brow noting you were drinking much faster than usual when the appetizers hadn’t even shown up yet.
He can tell you're nervous. But about what? You've been out to dinner several times. Although, this IS the first industry dinner he's invited you to. He reaches over to take your hand. His long fingers lace with yours. You look up at him from where you'd gotten lost in your thoughts once again. His thumb caresses the back of your hand. You smile. Much like his fangirls, this man has ruined you.
Conversation swings to Oscar nominations. Tom squeezes your hand to remind you to be nice.
Of all the topics to be brought up at the table when Tom is sitting right there! The gull of some people, really. Then someone has to take it a step further. “It really is a shame that Only Lovers Left Alive didn’t get nominated for anything. But if there was a little more of a story line to it instead of just a lot of useless trivia, it might have been noticed.”
“That’s not Tom’s fault.” You say hearing the comment. “He did wonderful with the part he was cast in.”
“Of course he did.” Another one said, “No one is saying that he didn’t.”
You point at Tom, “He’s sitting right here. Want to maybe try and not act like he isn’t?” You say defensively.
He squeezes your hand to get your attention. You turn and instantly melt at his pleading eyes. You bring your joined hands to your lips and kiss one of his knuckles. "I'm sorry. I get defensive when it comes to Tom. He knows I don't enjoy the Oscars nor do I put any stock in their opinions when it comes to my movie viewing."
"But your boyfriend," the woman says the word in a questioning tone, "is an actor. How can you have such a negative opinion? It's an honor."
You turn to Tom and look at him to keep from losing your temper, and your chance with this marvelous person.
"The Academy is historic for ignoring fantastic movies and talents. And it's too political." You turn back to her and decide to change the focus off Tom. "Zero Dark Thirty should have won best picture. It was fantastic and well written and directed but because the subject matter was a hot button issue they got ignored."
The conversation picks up the gauntlet. Tom leans in and kisses your ear then softly whispers, "You're amazing."
“Hmm. I’m overly opinionated and it gets worse with alcohol.” You remind him wondering why he brought you with him if he knew this was going to be the topic of discussion for the evening.
He laughs, “That’s alright. I would be lying if I said I didn’t hold with your opinion now wouldn’t I.” He says softly to you. “Just, keep it civil. Would rather it doesn’t turn into tomorrow’s headline in the Daily Mail, ‘Tom Hiddleston seen leaving restaurant with rabid Wolverine: There were no survivors.’” You give him a look and playfully swat his arm. He just chuckles and fills your glass again.
Just then the food starts to arrive and they serve the appetizers to each guest before going to prepare the on tray.
The food seems to have killed the Oscar talk and for that, you're thankful. The man on the other side of Tom pipes up, "So how have you managed to keep your relationship with our dear Thomas a secret for so long?" You freeze, mid-chewing. The question had been directed at you. You silently pray to whatever powers that be that Tom will jump in and save you. Nope. The jerk continues right on eating, but you notice him watching you out of the corner of his eye.
You swallow then take a sip of wine. The table seems to be holding its breath. "Well. We haven't kept it a secret. We're good friends-close friends who enjoy spending time together when work allows. I'd like to think were we -to- explore the possibilities beyond friendship, neither of us would keep it a secret. Tumblr would go rabid with rumors and speculation."
The man's wife tilts her head ever just so. "Tumbler? Like a glass?"
Finally, Tom chimes in. "It's blog website. I've only been on there a few times. But apparently, I'm a hot topic of conversation." He sips his wine. "She's correct though. They'd have us secretly married and her pregnant."
"You can't be serious?"
The other wives smirk. They know tumblr. You can tell.
"Serious. But, she is correct. If we were to pursue beyond friendship, I wouldn't hide it." This sounds as if it were directed at you instead of the table. You've suddenly found your wine glass fascinating. And you're appetite has thrown up its hands and walked out in protest.
For some reason, your snarky personality pipes its head up and you take your pen out of your purse sticking it between your teeth as you dig around for something else, “Could we not talk about my personal life in public?” You say doing a perfect imitation of Tom’s Scott Fitzgerald. Everyone chuckles catching the reference and you put your pen back in your purse setting it under the table.
It was one of your worst fears that public opinion was going to become a wedge between the two of you so you did your best to avoid speaking of it out of turn. Especially since it didn’t seem as though they were talking about relationships in general, just fishing for details about yours and Tom’s.
“So what’s your next project going to be Tom?” One of the ladies ask.
“I have a few things on the table I’m looking at right now. Thanks to Marvel and some of the other pieces I’ve been fortunate enough to work on, my name seems to be getting out there. ‘I Saw The Light’ is probably the most challenging role I’ve had to date. Even more so then Henry V for the Hollow Crown.”
“What about Coriolanus?” Another said.
“Well, Shakespeare isn’t exactly challenging for me. An absolute pleasure of course, but I realize not everyone feels that way about it.” He says taking another drink of from his glass.
The waiter removes the plates. You circle your fingertips around the rim of your wine glass. Your attention wanders off again. Tom squeezes your thigh.
"Darling?" You blink at him. "Are you alright?"
You realize they were talking to you again. "Yes. No. I don't know." You stand. "Would you excuse me?" Tom stands with you then pulls you off to the side.
"Do you want to go? You've been out of it all evening."
"No." You shake your head. "I'm just gonna go take a breather in the bathroom. I'll be fine."
"Promise?" He tips your chin up to gaze into your face.
"Promise." He nods and kisses your cheek.
You make a beeline for the bathroom. A splash of cool water and a moment of peace and you immediately feel better. The things you do for love. Because yes, you love him. You've known for awhile now. You just didn't want to admit it in case he didn't feel the same.
Your phone vibrates. The display lets you know you have a text from Tom 'T'. 'You ok?'
'Yes?' you respond. 'Coming back?'
You can't help yourself. You brace your heel on the sink and take a picture of the top of your stocking. 'Just fixing something'
He responds. 'Tease. Hurry back, sweetheart'
You sigh and fix the skirt and make sure your hair looks fine. You take a deep breath and rejoin the table.
You look at yourself in the mirror and sigh, “Alright, get your head on right girl.” Usually you flirted back and forth with him mercilessly, but at the same time you really hated the people that you were having dinner with. Just their manner and their nosy questions.
He didn’t know, and you never would tell him but you had a tendency to surf the very trenches of his fandom on occasion. His fans could be really heartless and mean when it came to anyone he was seeing or might be seeing. You’ve read some interesting stories about yourself that were pure fiction. You were shrugging it off and ignoring it for a while, but some of the stuff was just pure liquid evil hate directed at your head. Maybe it was affecting you more then you realized it was.
You had to start policing yourself on how much you were drinking. You took almost a whole bottle of wine down yourself and you were a little warm to the touch. Shaking your head you clinch your jaw determined to straighten up for the rest of the evening. But God, the sooner dinner was over and the two of you were alone the better.
“Would you like another drink?” Tom texts
“ God yes.” You text back. Then you pause and add, “Umm. Make it Virgin please?”
This was really dumb, why were you texting each other? He was 30 feet away. Shaking your head you head back out returning to the table.
Tom stands as you approach. He pulls out your chair. Before you sit down you stand on your toes and kiss his ear, gliding your hand down his arm. You sit and scoot your chair up. Tom sits. You lay your handon his thigh.
Conversation swings back to you. "So, what do you do for a living?"
"I'm a photographer."
"Oh? For anyone we might know?"
"No. I'm fairly sure you wouldn't know anyone of shot or any where I've been published."
"Are you sure?"
You laugh and shake your head. "I deal mainly in alternative models."
"Have you photographed Tom?"
"Countless times." You turn to look at him. "He lets me man handle him. He's given life to a lot of my crazy beautiful ideas."
One of the wives leans forward. "I'd love to see."
Tom looks at you sheepishly, knowing that some of those shoots are x-rated. You sip your water.
"If it rains tomorrow, I'm actually going to try to convince him to join me on the beach."
The next round of drinks arrive and you pick up the one that Tom ordered for you taking a sip. You pause looking at it. This was not a virgin drink. Your eyes slide to him a second wondering if he hadn’t gotten your second text or he was just unaware of how much you’d had. Not wanting to be rude you take a larger drink setting it down.
“Which beach is that?” One of the men says jokingly, “Because you know certain activities aren’t allowed on a public beach. You know, if you’re engaging in such activities.” He chuckles as does the rest of the table. Seriously? Did he seriously just say that.
“Yup. All the time. I’m actually hurting right now.” You say as you pick up your drink and take a sip. Holy hell, did that really just pop out of your mouth? It definitely shut the chuckles right up and seemed to embarrass everyone at the table. Your eyes go wide and you take a much bigger drink, “You know what? I’m not feeling well.” You look at Tom. “Can we go?”
Tom, ever so graceful, comes to the rescue. "She's had a long day and sometimes she likes to shock people. But honestly, you lot set it up perfectly for an inappropriate comment." He stands and offers you his hand. "Thank you for dinner but we must be going."
You take his hand and stand, downing the last of the wine for the ride home. This could be very unpleasant.
He leads you through the restaurant and out into the cool night. "Now that we're away from them, you want to tell me what the hell that was about? I've never seen you act like that. On top of getting so drunk so quickly." He combs his fingers through his hair. "What were you thinking? I work with them. I wanted to show off this amazing woman who I haven't been able to get out of my mind the last month. And instead. It's a fucking train wreck."
“They were fishing! From the moment we sat down and you introduced me, they were fishing, and implying, and inferring.” You sigh and shake your head, “I haven’t seen you in months Tom.” You begin softly rather embarrassed at yourself. “I’m a little paranoid you know? Like you said, social media has us married and me hiding a baby bump.” You furrow your brow and look down at your stomach. There was no way you were hiding anything in this dress. You’ve worked out a LOT for this abdomen to be flat as a board. “They also have me drawn and quartered after being disemboweled.”
“Who does? My co-workers?” He asks. You look down, there was no way he couldn’t know about the horrid stories and posts about you popping up all over the internet. He sighs and rests his hands on your shoulders, “Darling, they don’t know you. They don’t know me either to be honest.” He shakes his head and takes your hands. “I know it’s been a while, maybe we should have gone out alone first. I had no idea this was upsetting you so much.”
“It shouldn’t be, I know. I mean I get the whole falling in love with you thing, you’re such a wonderful guy, even for anyone who hasn’t met you. I fell in love with you the first time you asked me out for coffee.” Your eyes go wide realizing you’d just said you loved him. You cover your face wishing your mouth was just wired shut. “Fuck.” You shake your head, “Maybe we should just call it a night.”
"What did you just say?"
Your stomach churns with nervousness and wine."I- I'm really not feeling well, Tom."
"No, darling. Please. Repeat yourself." He cups your face in his hands.
You lick your dry lips. Now, you're not lying. You really don't feel well. A bottle of wine on an empty stomach and your nerves. "I love you." You sigh. "I've loved you from the start. And every day, whether together or apart, made me love you more." You feel shakey. "Baby, I really don't feel well." You've gone pale.
Tom has a split second to react before you're puking on the curb. And then you're crying, ugly humiliated tears. He pulls you up. You've gotten vomit on your favorite heels. And it's in your hair. He shushes, pulling you into his chest. He doesn't give a damn that you smell like soured wine and sick.
The car arrives and he helps you in. "Let's get you home, sweetheart."
You ride in silence in the car starring out your window in embarrassment. “None of those people were journalists were they?” You say with a sigh leaning your head in your hand against the door. “It’s not going to pop up in bold print somewhere tomorrow, ‘Tom Likes It Rough’.”
He laughs, “Well I do.”
“Shhhh.” You shush glancing over at him then up at the driver.
Tom just smiles and takes your hand kissing your knuckles. When you arrive back at his place, you go inside and he locks the door behind you putting down his keys before wrapping his arm around you. He disappears for a moment before coming back with some clean towels and taking your hand again leading you into the bathroom knowing you would want to clean up. “You’ll feel better after you shower.”
Tom turns the water on full blast and hot.
Despite the car ride, you're still a bit shakey. And limp. You don't realize how much vomiting takes out of you until you're trying to undress in heels.
"Here. Let me help you before you fall." Tom kneels down and takes your shoes off one by one. He then reaches up under your dress and rolls your stockings down. He stands to unzips your dress and let's it fall. "I'm happy."
His fingers skim down your arms causing you to shiver.
"Why's that?" He unsnaps your bra. You allow it fall.
His lips press gently to your throat then you shoulder.
"You love me." Your stomach drops to your toes. His arms circle your waist from behind and pull you back against him.
He finally notices that you weren't wearing any panties. He groans and rests his forehead against the back of your head.
"I do. Do you?"
"Do I? Love you?" He laughs and spins you around in his arms. "You have to ask? Yes, my darling. I love you." He kisses your nose. "Now get in the shower." He swats your ass and leaves the bathroom.
You stand in the shower your face under the hot water. It was making you feel better, and sobering you up a little bit. You wash your hair, and soap your body up twice before rinsing off. Coming out of the shower, you grab the bathrobe that Tom had brought in after you were in the water and dry off before wrapping it around you.
Going under the sink you grab your overnight bag that you had started leaving there when you’d been seeing each other regularly and take out your tooth brush and tooth paste, scrubbing out your mouth, your tongue and your teeth. You swish your mouthwash longer then recommended spitting it out. You breathe into your hand testing your breath to make certain your mouth was good and clean.
Drying off your hair you run your brush through it before twisting it up in a clip. Great. Now you were clean and your head was clearer. Yup, all that stuff you wish wouldn’t have happened, actually happened. You drank to much, you let your mouth run, and you embarrassed Tom. Wonderful. Shaking your head you take out your Loki green lounge pants and your matching spaghetti strap top pulling them on. You put the towels in the hamper and head out of the bathroom to go find Tom.
Somehow, he's folded those impossibly long legs into an overstuffed armchair. He's changed into black sweat pants and didn't bother with a shirt. You lean against the door jam, watching him read over a script. You love it when he wears his reading glasses. They make him look smart. Not that he isn't smart without him but they give them the typical brainy nerd look.
He feels your presence and looks up. "Feel better?"
"Much."
He smiles and drops his legs to the floor. You cross to him and curl up on his lap, resting your head on his shower. "I'm sorry. I was so nervous about dinner that I drank too much."
"I know."
"I didn't want to embarrass or a upset. And look, I've done both." You're not going to cry.
"Yes, well. They sort of aided the situation." He tosses the script onto the coffee table so that he can wrap both arms around you, resting his hands on your hip.
"I'm sorry, baby. Do you forgive me being an idiot?"
"Yes, pet. And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you in that situation. But next time, no drinking. I'm right there and I'll help you through it." He squeezes you awkwardly.
"Next time?"
"Yes, next time. But I'll make sure they know what subjects to avoid so long as you don't take the blasted bait."
You can't stop smiling. You hadn't blown it completely. "Next time."
Snuggling into the warmth of his body, you feel yourself start to drift off to sleep. His large, elegant hand rubs up and down your back. This definitely wasn't the best way or the way you had wanted to spend your first night together after months apart.
Tom rests his hand over your belly knowing your stomach was probably still upset if you had enough to drink so quickly. “No, you can't sleep yet.” He says kissing your head. “Come on, on your feet.” He pats your thigh before helping you to your feet and getting up as well. “You go to sleep dehydrated and you’re going to be a zombie in the morning.” He takes your hand and leads you into the kitchen setting you on one of the bar stools. “I’ll make some peppermint tea.”
You sit on the chair watching him put the kettle on, “You have peppermint tea? I thought you only drank Earl Gray?”
He arches a brow, “You’ve really never been in my tea cupboard have you?” Reaching up he opens the door and steps back so you can see.
“Wow.” You say your eyes wide. “Did the store have any tea left or have to close down that isle until they got another shipment.” He chuckles reaching up getting down the peppermint tea closing the door. “Besides, you never let me make the tea; you’re always darting to the kitchen to make it before I can offer.” You say crossing your arms on the counter resting your head on them.
He gets two cups down putting them on the counter in front of you before reaching over patting your arms, “I mean it. You go to sleep like that, you’re going to wake up, take a sip of water and be drunk all over again.”
“You know too much about this.” You mumble into your arms.
In an effort to stay awake, at least until after tea, you open the drawer on the end of the counter. A bottle of nail polish rolls to opening. Drawing your leg up, you brace your foot on the counter.
"So what script are you reading? Anything good?" The bright coral pink goes on smoothly over the pale beige you'd had on your toes.
"I'm not sure if I'm taking the role. The characters feel empty. And the plot is so vapid."
You finish with one foot and move on to the next. "So why are you reading it then?"
"Luke wanted me to read it. I think he's afraid of me getting too dark."
You look at him open-mouthed. "You're fucking kidding me, right?"
He shrugs. "I only agreed to read it. Which in already regretting." You finish your other foot, recap the polish and put it back in the drawer. "Since when is there nail polish in my kitchen?"
You grin, wondering when he was going to comment. "The pool party your friend from the studio threw."
"You mean that's been in there for five months?" You laugh. The kettle whistles.
He fixes the cups of tea passing one over to you. You pout when he doesn’t put milk or sugar in it. “Better if you take it straight for now so you don’t upset your stomach.” You nod and pick up your cup blowing on it before taking a sip. Wow, this peppermint tea WAS good. You could always trust Tom to make an excellent cup of tea.
“You don’t have any other hang over remedies do you? Nothing scary like making me drink . . . raw eggs in the morning.” You say taking another sip.
“I’ve heard of that one, but I don’t think it actually works. I get the feeling it was a bunch of guys wanting to torture each other and throwing whatever they could find in a glass to see if they could get the hung over one to drink it.” He sits on the barstool next to you sipping his own tea. “What goes in that one? Raw eggs, Worcestershire sauce and sardines juice?”
You wrinkle your nose, “Let’s not ponder that one or I’m going to boot again.” You sip the tea again. It really was making your stomach feel better.
“Boot?” He questions.
“Yeah, you know boot? Toss my cookies? Regurgitate? Throw up? Vomit?” You say listing off the phrases you knew.
“That’s a new one, ‘boot’. I never heard that one before. I kind of like it.” He says with a smile. It was one of the things he likes about you, the interesting and laid back way you speak all sorts of slang at random moments. “Are you working tomorrow?” He questions.
“No, I don’t work again until Friday. I was invited to do a period shoot on a set. Kimberly set it up for me. She showed some of my work to the directors and they liked it enough they want me to do shots for promotional photos.” You say continuing to drink your tea.
“Really? That’s wonderful. I always thought you had exceptional talent. I was actually thinking it was time I had some new headshots. Would you do some for me?” He asks.
“Sure!” You say with a smile. “If you’re using them for work we should probably do clothes on though.” You say with a mischievous grin. “Although I think you would get even more work if you just jumped the shark all together.”
“Yes well, we should probably keep it tasteful darling, these will be going into my portfolio.” He says knowing you were joking.
“What about you? Are you working tomorrow?”
“No, I have a few days off myself. I thought maybe we could go somewhere. A drive out to the country maybe? Give us a small holiday away from the world and out of the spotlight?” He had thought about it while you were in the shower, and to be honest it would be nice not to have to share you with the rest of the world for a day or two. “What do you think?”
“Sounds good.” You say with a smile, “Have to go home and pack a few things first.”
He takes your cup from you and places them both in the sink. Leading you to the bedroom by your hand, he brushes a stray hair from your face. "Be thinking about whether you want to go north or south. Now, get in bed."
"Yes sir." You chuckle and crawl into your side of the bed. He turns off the light and cuddles up to you. Your back is pressed to his front. Your bodies molded together. He unclips your hair then tucks it behind your ear.

"I love you, my darling." He kisses your ear.
Your heart leaps into your throat. The smile on your face doesn't do the feelings justice. "I love you, my heart." You snuggle back into him. "No funny business, mister. I'm still queasy."
"I had no intention of molesting your person." His fingers comb into your hair them close hard and pull. "But tomorrow night, you'll be punished for your behavior and fucked soundly." You gasp. "Go to sleep, baby."
“Hmm, promises promises.” You say your eyes closed quickly drifting off into sleep.
The next morning, you open an eye sliding from left to right. Your head was a little fuzzy and you’ve forgotten where you are for a moment. Slowly you sit up and reach up covering your eyes. The curtains are open and even though the light isn’t shining directly on you, it was still incredibly bright.
Throwing the covers back you put your feet down on the floor and stand up. Oh wow, it felt like jackhammers were hard at work in your head. “Ugh.” You groan. “Serves me right I guess.” You rub your eyes a moment before heading out of the room and heading for the kitchen. You get some water out of the fridge and pour yourself a large glass sipping it.
Looking around you notice that Tom isn’t there but glancing at the clock you realize he was probably out for his morning run. You take another drink leaning over on the counter as your mind starts to run over the events of the night before. “I am so not even turning on the computer today.” You say to yourself closing your eyes and shaking your head.
You pop a couple ibuprofen and slowly drink more water. The light is almost too bright for you. You pull the curtains shut and crawl back into bed. Leaving the water on the night stand, you throw the covers over your head. You pull his pillow against your chest, breathing in the scent of him. Before long, you're back to sleep.
A few hours later, you feel someone staring at you. Opening your eyes you see Tom sitting beside you. There was a pained look on his face as though he needed to tell you something but didn’t know how. “How are you feeling today love?” He questions reaching up and smoothing your hair back from your face.
“Better. Foolish, but better.” You sit up and reach over picking up your water taking a drink, your mouth and throat felt dryer then the Sahara. You notice he stopped talking again and was just looking at you. “What’s wrong?”
“Uhhh.” He says falling silent again. “I have a few things packed, and figured we can swing by your place on the way out of town. We should probably get going soon if we want to make it somewhere for the night. You know we can’t really make reservations in advance.”
“Tom.” You say taking another sip of water before putting the glass back on the beside table. “I have a slight headache, but my eyes work fine. What’s wrong? Are you still mad at me for how I acted last night?”
“No. God no, I’ve long since moved beyond it. But ugh . . . . well . . .” He punched the button on his phone before showing it to you, “The internet didn’t.”
You look at the phone a moment before snatching it away starring at the screen in horror. “Oh My God.” He wasn’t in the picture, but you were. Vomiting your guts out in the street. “What . . . the hell . . . . is THIS!” You exclaim.
“If it makes you feel any better, the majority of the media is calling it stomach flu.” He says.
“The majority? What are the other ones saying?” He winces slightly looking away not wanting to tell you.
“Ummm.” He pauses a moment, “morning sickness.”
You close your eyes and groan flopping back down on the bed pulling the blanket over you and burying your head underneath the pillow. You have every intention of just curling up and dying right there.
Tom curls up next you on top of the blankets. He wraps his arm around you and tugs you closer. You harrumph. "Look, sweetheart, it's not all that bad." You grunt rather unladylike. "At least they're not calling you a drunk."
The blankets muffle you. "There is that." He pulls the blankets down off your face. "So what are we going to do?" The bed moves and you know his chipper ass has jumped to his feet.
"We are going to do nothing." He pulls the blankets down off you. "You are going to get dressed. And I am going to take you to get breakfast." He emphasized 'we', 'you' and 'I'. He grabs your hands in both of his and pulls you to sit up. You scoot around and he pulls you to your feet.
Your forehead thunks against his chest. "Seriously, baby. What are we going to do?"
"I handled it." He tips your chin up to look into your eyes. They seem to be searching for something. Whatever it is, they find it. He smiles, not the smile that's all over the internet, but the smile he reserves just you.
"God, I love you." You reach up and take his face in your hands. You press a closed mouth kiss to his lips, closing your eyes and enjoying the sweetness of his lips. Whatever the Internet throws at you, you'll endure. He's worth it. Every nasty rumor and lie, every insult and speculation, everything.
You know your breath is probably fierce. "I love you. Now go get ready." You like this bossy side that's come about the last few 12 hours. Without it, you'd probably be a mess.
After breakfast, Tom drives you to your apartment so that you can get what you need for your trip. You quickly get cleaned up and changed throwing what you needed in a bag, and getting your camera equipment to take that along as well.
Tom is waiting for you in the living room while you’re getting ready surfing on his phone to see if he and Luke’s quick handling of the situation worked and the fuss was dying down. Fame was still new to him, and it was easy to forget sometimes just how famous and popular he had become recently. There were times when it also slipped his mind that it affected the people around him, family and friends. It would be good to get away for a few days. Take you out away from London and all the nonsense so the two of you can be alone.
Making sure you have everything, you turn your lights off and come out carrying two bags. Tom smiles seeing you enter and stands from the couch. “Ready?” He asks.
“Yeah.” He walks over taking your bags and heads out to load them in the Jaguar. You lock up your apartment and then head down getting in the car; you’re off on your few days of freedom before having to return to your careers and whatever backlash your severe lack of judgment may have caused. “So do you have some kind of a plan? Or are we just following the road until it dead ends somewhere?” You ask.
Tom just smiles not answering. It was apparent he had something mapped out in his mind, but he preferred to surprise you.
After settling into the passenger seat, you fasten your seat belt and take out your phone. Missed calls, texts, social media notifications. You turn off your phone then look at him until he finally glances your way.
"Something wrong, love?"
"My phone looks like I'm a goddamn missing person. How, pray tell, did you 'handle it'?"
He shifts in his seats and adjusts his grip on the steering wheel.
"I had hoped we wouldn't have to deal with this until we got back."
"Tommy, what did you do?" His face looks visibly pained. He had no resistance when you needled him with 'Tommy'. He only let you do it.
"I tweeted that I was in love, tagged you and denied the morning sickness bullshit."
"Oh." Your head thumps back on the head rest of the seat. You swallowed and glanced out the window.
"I know I should have asked but Luke thought it better to meet it head on." He reaches over and takes your hand. "Are you alright?"
Were you alright? Yes! No! Fuck. This was excellent. It was awful. And you didn't want to think about it anymore.
"It just surprised me." You squeeze his hand then slip yours away. You turn your camera on and adjust the settings. You bring it up to your eye and begin to take pictures of him.
He laughs. "What are you doing?"
"Scientific research. The wild Tom on migration." He bursts out laughing. He pulls a funny face, sticks out his tongue and air kisses you. And you photograph everything. Mariah Carey 'Beautiful' comes on the radio. You squeal and turn it up. Setting the camera on the floor board. You dance in your seat, belting out the words. He laughs, heading the car out of London and into the countryside.
Tom’s phone started to ring and you reach over turning the radio down so he could hear. “Yeah, Luke. You got it? . . . .” He grins and chuckles shaking his head, “Seriously? That’s not a little obvious?” He laughs, “Text it to me will you? Thanks man.” He hangs up.
“What was that?” You ask.
“Well, Jasmine.” He begins glancing at you, “Luke made us reservations at a bed and breakfast about another hour’s drive from here.”
“Jasmine?” You ask. “That’s the sutio name I get? Jasmine?” Arching a brow you look at him again, “What’s yours? Aladdin? Or are we crossing movies to something like Mufasa?”
“Strangely, you aren’t too far off.” He says with a grin.
“Pumbaa? Timon? Scar?” You guess. Apparently none of those were right. “Simba?”
“There you go.” He says with a smile.
“Oh Lord.” You say in disbelief covering your face unable to stifle the laugh. “Couldn’t we have gone Shakespeare instead of Disney? I mean this is England, no one would probably blink twice if I was Desdemona and you were Othello.” You pause looking at him, “Okay well maybe not that particular couple.” You shake your head, “So I’m a snotty Arabian princess, and you’re a snotty lion cub prince. Okay, this could work.”
You pluck his phone from his fingers. "Hey." Turning it off, you drop it in the bag.
"No work. No internet. Just you and I." He opens his mouth. "Luke knows how to get a hold of us if there's an emergency."
"You're right. So are you feeling better, darling?"
"Immensely." The storm heads edge the sky. "You do know that if it rains, I'm getting you outside."
"That was part of the plan." You raise your eyebrow. He takes your hand, interlacing your fingers. He lifts them to his lips and kisses the back of your hand then rests your joined hands on his thigh. The two of you fall into comfortable silence.
You must have fallen asleep as the next thing you realize Tom is crouched down on your side of the car with the door open gently waking you. “Darling.”
Wiping the sleep from your eyes you look around finding that the car was parked outside a large but cozy looking cottage. “Where are we?”
“We’re here. All checked in and everything. Come on. Let’s take our stuff to our room.” You give a sleepy nod rubbing your eyes again before unbuckling and getting out of the car. You get your bags and Tom gets his, heading inside.
Your first inclination is to the put the bags on the bed but Tom has set his on the floor and flopped across the bed face down. You set your bags next to his then kick off your shoes. You climb onto the bed then straddle his back.
"Are you tired, babe?" He makes a muffled sound of agreement. You work your fingers into his shoulders and neck. He turns his face to the side, softly moaning when your fingers massage deep into his tense back.
"God, that feels good." You move down his back, feeling his relax and start to fall asleep.
"Tom?" He doesn't answer. You carefully climb off the bed. Scribbling a note for when he wakes up, you slip your shoes back on and grab your camera. There was an adorable courtyard off the side of the cottage and you wanted to get some shots. He needed his rest. Sometimes, you felt he worked entirely too much but like they say, strike while the iron was hot and right now, Tom's iron was searing. And he loved acting. If he took care of himself and kept the right people with him, he had the staying power to remain a name long into the future. Your only question, were you one of the right people?
Going down to the courtyard, the lighting was perfect. It was nearly dusk and it caused the most beautiful shadows and sun rays on the flowers and other plants. You open your case taking out your camera changing the lens before you slowly begin to move around slowly taking shots of blooming flowers, small lady bugs, and other such things.
A monarch butterfly lands on one of the large yellow blooming roses and your eyes go wide. You move closer lining up your shot and you take several pictures. It was absolutely perfect. You look around the courtyard thinking it rather lovely. Perhaps tomorrow you could take a few shots of Tom here for his new pictures with all the bright colors.
You walk over to the stone bench where you set your bag down, and change the lens on your camera again as it was starting to get darker now. You look up the sky seeing the clouds that were threatening rain. They were big, fluffy, and actually had silver linings around the edges. You point your camera towards the beautiful display and take several pictures of the view.
You do feel much better then you did last night and this morning. It felt like you could breathe out here. However your smile fades as you put your camera down in the bag and reach into your back pocket taking out your phone. You turn it over in your hands before punching the power button. Good God. 43 voicemails? You scroll through the numbers recognizing them as friends and colleagues who no doubt were fully aware of the fiasco.
Shaking your head you immediately turn the phone off tempted to throw it against a rock and shatter it, but you couldn’t do that. Instead you slip it back into your pocket and picking up your camera again.
Someone clears their throat. You look up in that direction. Tom's leaning on an ivy covered lattice archway. The dimming light hits him perfectly. "Don't move!" You take shots from several angles. His serious face at your shout giving way to a smile as he watches you work.
You back up across the courtyard. "Now. Walk to me."
"As you wish."
You keep shooting until he's right in front of you. You stop and let your camera hang on its strap. "Thomas. Some days, I can't get over how beautiful you are." He rests his hands on your waist. "You take my breath away."
He blushes. "Darling, shouldn't I be saying those things to you?" He leans in and kisses you.
When you part, you draw in a deep breath. "See. You did it again."
"Let's go get dinner." You pack up your lens and lights.
"Aren't we eating here?"
"Not tonight. I have plans for tonight." There he goes being mysterious again.
He had wanted to tell you he loved you in a more romantic situation. And he was damn sure going to try to make this time so amazing you'd forget last night.
(Next Chapter --> )
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