You've Only Just Arrived (a Tom Hiddleston fan fiction)

Part 32

You haven't spoken to Tom for months for a damned good reason. Leading up to the very last time you'd talked to him, things had so frequently fallen apart that continuing to struggle through the relationship just didn't make sense. Why, for the love of all things, the pair of you ended up standing in the middle of a massive crowd playing everything out for all the world to see is utterly beyond you.

"Just go back to your panel." You shake your head and turn to try to find Richard, who you know must be close by watching the proceedings.

Tom had started to lift his hand up to his ear to touch the mic with an expression of surprise, not realizing that in his hurry to follow you he'd left the earpiece on. He leaves the mic where it sits when he notices you trying to sauce out a way through the crowd. "No. Wait. ______, damn it. Don't walk away from me." He reaches to halt your progress again, this time the motion makes him wince. He's starting to feel the impact of where you'd tried to break his grip on your wrist.

Guilt washes over you. You've injured him – now in so many more ways than one. The least you can do is listen to whatever he wants to get off his chest. You sigh and motion to the surrounding crowd, "Alright, Tom. I'm listening – but this is anything but private."

"If I wait for private, you might not hear me out."

You look pointedly around at the onlookers, past Richard, John, and Bruce as well. "Well, apparently I'm not going anywhere right now."

Someone in the crowd shouts, "Speak up!"

Oh hell. Your cheeks are starting to burn. Get this over with already Tom. You roll your fingertips at him to get him to start talking. He wets his lips while watching your blush intensify and gives you a small smile in return. Damn it Tom, stop flirting and speak.

"God I missed you, darling." Your heart does a flip just hearing that one single word tumble from his lips – his word. Darling. Oh Christ. Get a grip on your emotions. You're hearing whatever it is he is so determined to say and then maybe this whole drama can end.

"The best place to start, I suppose, is that I never cheated. Never. It's only been you. It's always been you. So stop telling me to go back to someone who remains firmly in my past." You move to take a breath and speak but he tilts his head up slightly, "Ah – hearing me out. Remember?"

You roll your eyes and nod. He may say he never strayed, but you remember that damned video chat where you'd caught him with her. Overlooking that, there was still the breakdown of communication, the stressed-out, standoffish behavior that had encompassed nearly every phone call. If he hadn't been distancing himself from you to focus on her, why the cold shoulder?

He starts to rub at his hand, the one you'd hit, while he thinks. He's probably going to need to ice it. "In a blink we went from an odd patch which I thought we could recover from to a full-fledged argument which ended with us not on speaking terms."

"An odd patch? Tom we couldn't have a conversation without one of us getting short with the other." You hadn't meant to say anything. You'd promised to listen but the thought shot out of your mouth before you could stop it.

Tom nods. "Granted. But again, I figured we could work through that. That there'd be a quiet weekend or – I'd been talking with Richard trying to coordinate something and surprise you – but you kept taking jobs, and I couldn't get away."

You'd located Richard earlier so you glance over at him to receive a nod of confirmation. No wonder Tom had sounded strained every time you excitedly reported another commercial booked or interview scheduled.

And now there's a cameraman pushing through the wall of people that are recording the moment on their phones. Apparently the panel Tom had been a part of was still ongoing and they weren't satisfied with a mere sound feed of the conversation.