Tom Hiddleston and Loki Imagines - Bk. 1

Tom - The One, Pt. 4

A/N: I promised today, I will update today. (Plus, I needed a break from 7 hours of studying.) Hope you guys like it!

***

Three days later...

You waited in front of your laptop, fiddling nervously with your fingers. Here you were again, waiting to see how his date went, waiting to see what your role was going to be: a cheerleader or a comforter. So many times, you had been both, but this time, Tom was actually nervous; Mr. Suave asked you about a dress rehearsal for his date. Not even for his ex-fiance did he go to these lengths.

 This could be the one.

The ringtone for the incoming voice call startled you. With a deep breath, you answer, and you are greeted by a friendly face. Even though your emotions are on edge, you can't help but smile.

"Hi, Tom."

"Hello, (Y/N). How are you?" You cover your mouth, trying not to laugh as there's a piece of tape stuck on his forehead.

"Looks like you're all wrapped up." Puzzled, he looks around, then softens into a laugh when he notices his forehead.

"Very funny. Packing isn't easy on your own."

"You know I tried." He smiles.

"Yes I do. You're not that kind of person." The day after the fake date, you asked your boss if you could take a vacation day to help Tom move. But since you were new, you had to wait at least you had a month of employment in your pocket.

"I still can't believe the apartment sold that fast."

"Well, when the media announces your house for sale, people are bound to notice."

"I keep forgetting." It was so easy for you to dismiss Tom's fame. You had never seen him as the actor or the celebrity. He was your friend, the person who you could trust and tell your worst fears to and cry on and binge-watch Netflix and Disney with; the person who knew you down to when your period was and the consistent cravings that you had with it.

He wasn't someone distant in the screens but someone tangible in the flesh. And now, with this move, it would be like that once more.

"In a good or bad way?"

"No, good. Definitely good. As proud as I am of your success, I'm glad I know you off script." You readjust yourself, sitting up straighter. "Speaking of which, how did the date go?"

"Well..." he says, nervously chuckling. Your eyes widen.

"You didn't have it?!"

"I got so nervous. And then, after I left, I kept thinking that maybe the fake date was a bad idea, because now I'll be comparing the two. And when we went, it was so nice. What if it's not as nice as before? What if it's awkward and not as easy-going as we predicted?"

"Tom, first, breathe." You wait until he takes a deep breath. "Second, that night is going to be so much more wonderful because it'll be with the one you really want to date. The way you spoke about her to me and even just wanting to have the perfect night for her, you really must care about her. She's going to love it."

"I don't know..."

"You won't ever know if you don't ask." You pause, not believing the words that were about to come out of your mouth. "Call her now."

His eyes widened. "What?"

"You should call her now?"

"I really don't think I should."

"Why not? Once we hang up, we both know you're going to sulk and walk in circles debating on if you should or not, and who knows? By the time you do, maybe she's already made plans and you'll miss your chance. You're always telling me 'Carpe diem;' now it's your turn."

He tries to laugh, but you can tell that he's shaking, his nerves more physical than ever.

"You asked me for a fake date. Now I'm asking you to go for the real one."

After a moment of silence, he answers, "Alright, but you asked for it."

Tom takes out his phone and scrolls through it. He puts it up to his ear. Your heart stops as your own cell phone sounds in your lap.

 Incoming Call: Tom Hiddleston

Your eyes dart back up to the screen, and you notice how his eyes are glued to the ground. With a shaky hand, you answer the phone.

"Tom, look at me." Reluctantly, he raises his head, your eyes meeting his, lacking confidence.

"I didn't want to scare you," he whispers. Your heart breaks, remembering his words from the other night. "That's why I asked for your help. Because maybe if you saw what it was to go out with me for a night, you wouldn't think it was that bad.

"And I'm sorry if I may have hurt you or if what I'm about to say hurts you, but you have the right to know: I haven't stopped thinking about you ever since the day I called off the engagement. And I feel so stupid for putting you through all my mishaps and mistakes because it's two strikes against me: that I've dated many women and that, when you warned me, I didn't listen. And I feel stupid that I didn't see how wonderful you were until then, and I know at the time I was feeling vulnerable and lost, and I tried to reason with myself, even as we were packing the van, but the more I thought of all the reasons why I shouldn't feel the way I do, I found a tenfold of reasons why I should. And I'll say it, and I hope you're not offended, but I think I'm falling in love with you, and if you're going to hang up, please, before you do, just do me one favor and help me fall out of it, because I simply just don't know how."

"Tom, you didn't scare me. And I'm not hanging up." You run a hand through your hair. "But I am terrified about what this means for us. What if things don't work out? I don't want to lose you."

"But what if they do? What's if it's everything you and I ever hoped for?" You swallowed. This was what you wanted, you and Tom together. Now that you were so close, reason was starting to get to you, fear of failure.

"(Y/N), you're my best friend, and I understand that this is a risk, but I think it's worth it. We're already like a couple in so many ways, I don't think it'll hamper anything that we already do. And I know we can lose everything, but I think you and a relationship of a lifetime are worth fighting for."

You take a good long look at him. And even though he shaking, in a cold sweat, puffy-eyed, eyebrows timid, deep behind his eyes are solid and firm, the kind of look you see when he's reading a script, rehearsing a part, the same look that he had when he was getting the ring for his ex-fiance. Determination, courage. You knew he meant every word he said and wouldn't renounce it on his deathbed. You knew that not only would he treat you like the other women—never giving up on them—but that he wouldn't treat you like any of them, holding you up higher than them all. He was, in effect, pre-promising his commitment to be your everlasting companion.

"I'm committed to this. Are you?" You let a soft smile gracefully set on your lips.

"Yes."