Tom Hiddleston and Loki Imagines - Bk. 1

Tom - Babysitting

        "Here's the diaper bag, I have eight bottles of milk in the refrigerator and 4 more in the freezer," Sophie says, putting a navy blue bag on your shoulder.

        "Cleaning supplies are properly labeled on the left side of the closet, outfits and shoes are sorted on the right," Benedict lists.

        "Guys, we got this!" Tom encourages the newlyweds.  "I'm babysat Tristan, India Rose, and Sasha all at the same time by myself."

        "We haven't left the baby alone yet," Sophie reveals.  "I'm nervous."

        "We fully trust the two of you, but we're still new to this," Benedict reaffirms.

        "Tonight, you two are a free couple," you remind them.  "Go get a drink, tell some jokes, have some fun.  We'll take care of your little one."  With reassuring hugs to both of them, Benedict and Sophie leave the house.  As soon as the door closes, Tom locks the door, and you put the diaper bag down on the couch.

        "Okay, so it's fifteen minutes until feeding time, so--" He turns around and finds you gone.  "(Y/N)?"  He looks all over the first floor and then heads up the stairs.  Turning his head into the nursery, he finds you and chuckles, you tickling the baby.

        "Hello, Snickerdoodle," you say as you go to pick them up.  That was your nickname for them.  Besides at the hospital, the first outfit you saw the baby in was in one that had a giant cookie on the front.  And every time they saw you, they would start giggling.  This time was no exception, for as soon as you started to pick up the baby, they started laughing and trying to hold your cheeks.

        "That's my brave Snickerdoodle," you comfort, holding them close.  You turn around, seeing Tom leaning against the doorpost.

        "I turn my back for two seconds, and you'd already sprinted up here."

        "Hey, I thought you babysat the Hemsworths all at the same time," you tease with a smile.

        "Didn't think I'd have to worry about you," he teases back, pecking your lips.  "We have to feed them soon and put them down for a nap."

        "Do you think he will calm down and sleep if I tried?"  His smile grows bigger and he takes the baby, who reaches for him.

        "Don't worry about it, love."  As you follow him, he takes the baby back downstairs, bouncing him the whole way, and sits down on the couch.  The baby laughs, grabbing onto Tom's shirt.

        "Hey there, buddy, Aunt (Y/N) doesn't even do that yet."  You smile, sitting down next to him.  "You see, she wants to wait for the right guy, and apparently that's not me."

        "If you're going to tell them about that," you say, playfully slapping Tom's arm, "tell it right.  I'm waiting until I'm married to Mr. Right because then it'll be more special.  You won't have to worry about this for a long time, but if, by chance, you have an eidetic memory or hyperthymesia, take my advice."

        "What are the odds of that?" Tom asks, turning to you.  You throw up your hands in defense.

        "Hey, you never know!"  The baby starts to reach out to you, and Tom hands them over.

        "Are you hungry?"  The baby starts laughing and yanking onto your hair.  "Hey hey hey, now what have we said about the hair?"  Instantly, the baby drops your hair and leans against you, as if understanding.

        Tom's eyes widen slightly.  "Maybe they do have a really good memory."  The baby was only a few months old.

        A few minutes later, carrying the baby, you go to the kitchen and get a refrigerated baby bottle.  When you return to the living room, Tom is prepared, a small towel flung over his shoulder.  You laugh as you hand over the baby.

        "You can't handle me feeding them?"

        "If I don't, then I"ll never have time with the baby."  The infant grabs for the bottle and greedily puts the nozzle in their mouth.  You sit down and prop your arm on the top of the cushion.

        "They're so helpless."  Tom looks at you then back at the little tyke.

        "That's why they need parents."  You smile.  You didn't want to tell Tom that every time you had been thinking about your future, one with him and quite possibly a child of two or your own.  You hesitatnly to relate that you had taken up crocheting once more not to only make blankets and hats for your friends' children, but to make extras for your own in the future.  You dared not tell him that you had been reading a lot more books and seeing a lot more plays and movies not for the plots or for the scenes or for the pure entertainment, but for the names, seeing how they rolled off the tongues of the actors tongues, how the letters and characters of the language formed the name and made it a work of art.

        "I'm glad this little Snickerdoodle has Benedict and Sophie," you whisper, rubbing the top of the infant's head.  Tom clears his throat, and you laugh.  "And of course, his wonderful Uncle Tom."

        The hours roll by, one by one, the baby bottles start to empty, the baby Mozart music seems to repeat, and you get increasing exhausted.  It's almost midnight when Tom walks back downstairs, previously emptying out the diaper genie.

        "Okay, time for--"  He spots you two on the couch, the baby fast asleep against your chest, and you, although holding them, had nodded off.  Tom smiles, sitting on the steps to take in the sight.

        That was the moment he realized he wanted this, this moment exactly, but not with the child of the Cumberbatchs', but with the Hiddlestons', yours and his.  He wanted to come in from work and hear the quiet patter of a footsteps, a child running up to greet him, and you chasing after them, paint or food staining your clothes and intertwined in your hair.  And he wanted to scoop up his and your child in his arms, and have you cross your arms or hold your hands on your hip, wondering how such a small being can make such a big mess and have so much energy.  And he wanted to see you take a deep breath and realize how disshoveled you were, and he wanted to comfort you with a kiss and call you beautiful, even if you didn't feel like you were at the time.  And he wanted to tuck your child in at night, and look for monsters in the closet and under the bed, and read stories and sing lullabies and give goodnight kisses and hear "I love you, Daddy"s and even get waken up in the night because they had a scary bad dream and have them crawl in bed to make a family sandwich.  He wanted it all, all the good and all the bad and all the terrifying and all the unprepared I'm-not-ready-for-this's and all the fights but all the forgiveness and simply all of everything all around.

        But most importantly, he wanted to share them with you.

       Getting up from the steps, he walks over to you.  Fixing your hair away from your face, he leans down and kisses your forehead ever so gently.

        "I love you," he whispers, the words escaping his lips for the first time.