Tom Hiddleston and Loki Imagines - Bk. 1

Tom - Class Dismissed, Pt. 2

You could barely sleep that night. Was this really happening? Had I been making the whole thing up? Was this just a dream and the next morning and none of it would have happened? Surely he was dreamy, but is it just my subconscious and my desire for a good grade?

But when your alarm clock went off the next morning and you saw the change of date, you knew it was real.

And that only set off another whirlwind of questions and concerns. Okay, he wants me at his office at 10:30. How am I getting there? I can't walk because then we would have to drive or walk together to brunch, and I don't want him to get into trouble, even if technically he's in the clear. Should I take my own car? Where would I park? Would I get a ticket if I park in the teacher's parking lot in front of the building? And what do I even wear on this brunch date anyway? Is it a date?

You started to hyperventilate. Tom may have said that you were nervous the day earlier, but that was nothing compared to how much your heart was racing now. Was this something you wanted? You didn't know; you'd never thought about him seriously like this before. If anything, he would be like a celebrity or a fictional character—a person where the chances of having a relationship is very close to impossible. Things like this weren't supposed to happen to ordinary people.

You decide on a simple dress, not too formal, not too casual, the perfect outfit for wish-washy and indecisive people. The same went for your hair — smaller braids were dispersed around your head, and all the hair was braided into one big, loose one. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you felt so defeated. Was this the student Tom was falling for? Were you supposed to act more mature, more on his level? What did he expect from you?

With a sigh, you slip on some sandals, grab your purse, and head for your car. Ten minutes later, you find yourself in front of the English building.

As you park, you notice how reliving and eerily empty the campus was; either no one or everyone could see you and Tom leaving together. All or nothing.

And you were ready for the risk.

You turn off the ignition and head inside. Even the lights were a bit dimmer than usual. Then again, you hear here some footsteps overhead on the upper level; maybe workers were fixing the problem.

Tom's office was next door to the seminar room, where he would teach his Shakespeare classes. You look around and, after deeming the coast clear, take a deep breath and knock on the door.

You wait, each second seeming like an eternity. What if he had forgotten, the shared moment only fleeting desire? What if he had changed his mind, deciding against it at the last minute? What if it was only an un-lived daydream and you were now expecting something that didn't exist?

Your questions weren't to be unanswered, for after a good eight seconds, the door opens, Tom turning off the light.

"Good morning, (Y/N). Are you ready?"

"Yes." As you two walk towards the steps, a million and one thoughts raced through your mind. He knows about this. This is real. This is actually happening? Wait, does this mean that I really did kiss him? The feeling of his bristles were actually on my skin? Wait, he shaved today. He looks so young! Wait, how old is he? Does it matter?

"I thought you had forgotten me," he admits. "That maybe you reconsidered." You shook your head.

"No, of course not. I want to try this." He smiles as you two reach the front door.

"You took your car?" You nod. "Good." He instructs you to wait a couple minutes before driving to the restaurant, making sure that you guys didn't seem too suspicious. You agree, and within fifteen minutes, you were both seated at the table looking at the menus. Tom folds his menu and looks at you. You glance up, then nervously chuckle as you look back at the menu.

"How did you choose so fast? This menu is ginormous!"

"I always get the same thing here." You still go through the menu, Tom still studying your demeanor. You had the menu on the table, hugging your arms close to your body. Biting your bottom lip, you pushed a loose strand of hair back behind your ear. Just as Tom licked his lips, you close the menu and your waitress came over. You two place your orders, and she takes your menus.

"You're shaking," he says. "Do you want me to ask if we can sit outside?"

"No, I'm fine," you respond. "I've just...never done this before."

"With someone from the college?"

"No...ever." A confused expression takes over his face as he folds his arms.

"I find that extremely hard to believe. You've never been with anyone before?" You shake your head.

"Even figuring out what to wear was stressful," you admit. "This is already my first time, but with you..."

"But with me what?"

"....I wanted to make sure it was perfect." Tom smiles and takes your hands into his.

"You look beautiful."

And for the first time, you didn't feel so afraid or so timid.

Brunch flew by, you and Tom spending the morning talking more about Shakespeare, even joking around a bit and trying hard not to laugh so as to disturb others. You had never known that he could be so passionate, so lively, so...human, relatable, tangible.

As you went to the parking lot, Tom walked along side you, accompanying you to your car.

"I never thought that I could laugh so much in an hour," Tom confessed, sending you both into giggles.

"My cheeks are burning," you say, massaging them in your hands. You turn to him as you both approach the vehicle. "I had such a good time, Tom."

"Me too." He takes your hand into his, rubbing circles in the back of your hand. "Will I see you again before you take off?"

"I don't know. My flight leaves tomorrow night. And I still have to pack." His eyes fall.

"Oh...well I..." You smile.

"You still have to text me about the show." Tom's face lightens.

"Absolutely." After a quick swap, you exchanged each other's contact information. He puts his hands in his pockets.

"Must you leave so soon, (Y/N)?" There was no doubt that Tom was bummed out, for sadness read all over his face. Taking a gentle hand, you cup his cheek, and he leans into it. As you slowly slide your hand down, he leaves a trail of soft kisses on your hand.

"I'll see you again. I promise." You embrace, memorizing the intoxicating scent of his cologne. Then his warmth is gone, you slipping into your car and he watching you pull away.