Love, A Fan • A Tom Hardy fanfic

1:2

"He's here. He's here.... Oh my god," Stella grabbed her purse and threw her coat over her arm. "I'll keep you posted."

She took a deep breath and stepped out into the cool of the night. The headlights were dimmed down and she saw an outline of someone leaning against the car.

"Good evening, Stella," a British accent said to her. It sounded familiar but yet still foreign.

"Hi," she said shyly, moving closer to the man in a baseball cap. The street lamp nearby illuminated enough light for Stella to make out his face. She stopped abruptly.

"Something wrong?" He asked.

"Uh, no. No no no. You're just, you're just really him," Stella said in awe.

"Oh, good, my disguise is still working," Tom sighed dramatically with a laugh before opening the door for her. "Would you like to hop in?"

"Thanks," she bit her lip hard. Celebrities could still be murderers right?

She pushed that thought from her mind and figured it was a pretty slim chance he would kill her, not impossible but not entirely likely. The sports car was sleek with leather seats. He climbed in next to her, the interior lights stayed on for a moment after he closed the door.

"Wow," she said.

"Don't be weird," Tom said with a laugh. "I'm joking, I mean, don't be but also, relax I'm nothing special."

"Ok," Stella shrugged, she was pushing her fan freak out down as far as she could and proceeded to imagine him as just a typical guy. It was fairly easy to do in the darkness of the car, plus he had quite a bit of facial hair so he didn't necessarily resemble the characters she knew him to play. He looked different from the clean shaven spy she saw him play a few weeks earlier. "So, you live nearby? Or is that weird to ask?"

"Nah, not weird. It was like a 4 minute drive," he laughed. "You're here visiting your grandmother?"

"Yeah, it's been a wild few days," she joked.

"I bet," he looked over at her briefly before shifting the gear into third.

"Are you trying to impress me?" Stella teased as the car roared deeply. "Because I have this car in white and black back home."

"Oh yeah?" He asked, excited.

"No," she smiled and paused. "Do you frequently meet up with fans and take them on escapades?"

"Not at all. I didn't know I would meet up with you until I just said 'fuck it'," he coughed. "And then I just did it before I could change my mind."

"Heartwarming. But I get it," she ran her fingers through her hair, making sure the smell of her shampoo wafted toward him. "So where are you taking me anyway?"

"I thought maybe through the city?" He looked over at her, studying her face. "If you want."

"Oh, you're actually showing me around?" She laughed. "That works."

"Why? What else would I be doing?" He smirked, staring straight ahead.

"Well I did consider you may murder me, or have sex with me. It was really a toss up between the two. I didn't consider a middle ground."

Tom laughed loudly, his sounding more like a giggle. Stella couldn't help but join in.

"That's a lot to unpack," Tom noted. "I may murder you, yet you still got in the car?"

"I figured it was less likely," Stella said, hoping he would confirm that that was not on the agenda.

"Yes, way less likely," he was still laughing, putting his signal in to merge into a busier street. "But who said I wasn't going to have sex with you?"