Tom Hiddleston Oneshots.

Promises

It had been a little over seven months since you had last seen Conrad. Well, thirty-two weeks. Well, two hundred and thirty days. But who was counting?

It wasn’t as if the memory of his leaving you wasn’t constantly at the forefront of your mind. Always lingering at the edges, brought into sharp focus whenever a crisp British accent floated to you through the crowd, or you caught sight of a muted blue shirt. There were several times you thought you saw a tall strawberry blond head above the crowd, only for it to be a decorative headscarf or trick of the sun on your tired eyes.

“I’ll return to you, I promise. I must help this family, and then I will be right back in your arms. I’ll find you.”

But these fervent promises, murmured against your hair before he tore himself from your clinging hold, hadn’t yet come true. His absence was a physical ache in your chest, wrapping around your lungs and tightening until it felt like you’d never take a deep breath again. Your eyes had dried their tears and your mouth had set itself in a permanent frown long ago.

And when you were forced to move from Vietnam to India by the charity you worked with, the reason you had even bumped into each other in the first place, you had given up all hope that he would be able to find you. Sure, he had quietly admitted to his prowess in tracking during one of your many conversations had over your pillows and clasped hands, but finding someone in an entirely different country seemed nigh impossible.

Sighing heavily, you gathered your belongings and shoved them into your bag, slinging it over your shoulder.

“You heading out, bon?”

You waved tiredly at your coworker, a dear friend who had taken you under his wing when you had made the transition five months prior. “Yeah, Dada. I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

Shuffling your feet, you joined the mass of people leaving the building for the evening rush, already daydreaming about curling up on the couch in your pajamas with a hot cup of tea.

Until somehow, among the cacophony of voices and cars outside, you heard your name called out above it all, carried on a warm British accent dipped in hope and dragged through gravel.

Your eyes darted around frantically, matching the thud of your heart against your ribcage. There. A head taller than everyone else, your decommissioned soldier stood a rock among the river of people, stormy blue eyes locked onto you. You’d recognize that steady stare and light head of hair anywhere.

Bodies bumped into you where your feet had stopped cold, muttering insults and curses at you. But they could be calling you every horrible name under the sun and you wouldn’t care for the sight that you were greedily devouring at that moment.

And then he grinned, lips pulling back and eyes crinkling, and it broke the spell that had kept you frozen to the pavement. You lurched forward, pushing through the crowd to step into his open arms. You breathed him in deep into your deprived lungs. He was smoke and pine, earthy and male and the exact tantalizing scent that had since faded from your sheets and your skin. Security and relief wrapped around you with the warm embrace of his arms, holding you to him like he was afraid you would disappear should he let go. But come hell or high water, you weren’t going to allow that to happen.

“You found me,” you sighed into the blue linen covering his broad chest. How he had managed to do that, you hadn’t a clue. But he was a tracker, a damned good one, and it now seemed foolish to have doubted his skills.

“I promised you I would,” he replied, the sincerity of his words muffled by his lips in your hair. His hand cupped your cheek, tilting your face back so he could look at you properly. Tired eyes caught the attention of yours and held them with their intensity. “The thought of losing you was the most excruciating pain I’d ever felt. I’ve been searching relentlessly for weeks.“

The tense muscles of his back relaxed with your soft caress. His admission caught in your throat and pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Are you here to stay?”

Oh, that answering smile was devastating. More deadly than the various weapons he had at his disposal. “Nothing could take me away from you.”

You stood on your toes, hooking your arms around his neck to tug him down to your level. No more words were needed as your lips pressed to his, melting into him. He was firm and giving beneath your touch, masculine and rugged and everything that made your heart sing as his hands gripped the pliant flesh of your hips to hold you to him.

But most importantly, he was yours, and he was back where he belonged.