Just Like That

Part 23

Tom had never mastered the art of napping. He would desperately want to fall back to sleep, but Bobby often discouraged that, wanting to play or run or any number of things. The pup wasn't all to blame as Tom's mind quite often left him thinking and thinking, and thinking.

So when his eyes flew open, he was filled with concern. Unfortunately it was a familiar sensation to wake up not knowing exactly where he was—or the time. Occupational hazard some may say. However, his first concern had nothing to do with his recent landing in Atlanta.

"Y/N?" he called out into the empty suite, fighting back the dread that accompanied the silence. It had all been too much. He had fallen asleep after moments of having you alone–providing you with ample time to overthink and reassess this relationship. Of this, he was sure.

Almost as if the heavens opened up to grant him pity, he only had to endure silence for a second longer before the clicking of the electronic key was heard. He assumed you were trying to be quiet as you entered the suite, yet the jumbling of a plastic bag and suitcase made that task rather impossible.

"Shh," you whispered, causing Tom to chuckle at the idea that you were likely shushing yourself.

His relief brought about a new energy, bounding from the bed in just his briefs to assist you in your bags. "Let me help, love," reaching out instinctively.

Thankful that he was already awake so you could set aside your attempts at sneaking, all feelings of solace were quickly replaced when you caught sight of him. Your audible gulp heard over the closing of the door. A smirk on Tom's part was all the response he gave you, for he knew that once you got worked up—he would be in no better shape.

"You just go around looking like that every day," you grumbled, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. He was yours. At any point in a regular school day, you could have any number of marker swipes, eraser shavings—all sorts of germs covering you.... And here he looked like a fucking god.

He didn't want to acknowledge the compliment, besides a small smile. You'd figure out soon enough that there was nothing special about him. He just hoped beyond all hope that when you realized he was a real person, you weren't disappointed. "Is this everything?" asking casually, though upon further inspection it could have been taken as a joke. One large suitcase, two medium totes, a backpack, and a plastic convenience store bag—you might as well be moving in.

"I might have forgotten a bag in the car," you said in all seriousness, prompting a full body laugh on Tom's part as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"I'll have to teach you how to pack more efficiently once you have that passport of yours," a promise, kissing your forehead softly.

"Am I going to be doing a lot of traveling?" you asked coyly, only so you could hear him say it all out loud.

And he knew what you wanted. "We'll start with London. The most important Hiddleston still needs to meet you," he planned, a hand moving to push back a few stray dark locks behind your ear. Your smile was unstoppable, envisioning a future trip to London. Envisioning a future with Tom.

"Wherever premieres take us, as well. I'll need you by my side," voice dropping down as he studied your face, wanting to memorize it all. Wanting this to last forever.

By now, your hands were splayed across his bare chest and by some miracle, you weren't only thinking of sex. You were thinking of us and need. "Don't forget Atlanta. If you come back to film season two of Loki down here, I'll only be forty-five minutes away," an airy addition as your eyes focused on drawing circles along his chest.