You've Only Just Arrived (a Tom Hiddleston fan fiction)

Part 62

Worried that Tom's natural curiosity will cause him to wonder where you've gone – that he'll walk in and catch you trying to remove his wallet from his trousers – you don't take the added time to pry the desired item loose from his pants pocket. Instead of wasting time, you just fold the endless fabric up upon itself and shove the whole mess into the drawer of the nightstand by the bed. Winner! You'll pay for lunch for everyone and maybe tell him where you stashed his wallet later tonight, if  he asks in the right way.

Tom is just where you left him when you reemerge from the bedroom, your absence not long enough to be noted. You can barely keep your smile contained as you rejoin the group in the main room, pausing to snag your card from your bag just in case Tom has a stash of money on him at the moment. You will be the one to pay today, damn it. You will.

After the events of the morning everyone has settled once more. Tom and John have resumed their perusal of the pages of Tom's script so you seek out the other two. Richard and Bruce have disappeared into the kitchen. Though the newspaper sits scattered across the table it is clear that the two men have abandoned the acquiring of news in favor of setting up for the impending meal. Their jaunt outside has made them hungry. You're tempted to join them and help with setup but since they're planning on having the meal in there you decide on saving up your 'kitchen allotment' for the meal.

You remain just outside the doorway as you watch them move about the newly renovated kitchen. You've grown accustomed to having each of the men around – more than just in their capacity as bodyguards. They have become close to you, dear to you, friends. You've grown used to Bruce's jokes, and Richard's wit – and John's quiet manner has provided a steady comfort throughout this whole ordeal.

And then there's Tom. You turn and lean back into the doorframe to watch as Tom bobs from foot to foot while he runs lines with John. He finally settles, stepping over to tentatively plant himself on the arm of the loveseat as John takes over his part of the dialogue.

Tom won't be immobile for long, not if he's trying to memorize anything. He seems to sense that you're watching him and glances up from his pages to smile at you, not missing a beat when John finishes prompting him. Tom holds out his hand as you approach, allowing you to settle against him to observe.

Running lines. If only you could be doing the same with the material from the Touring Sundays sequel. One week of being off the schedule. Fully off the schedule. One week where they demand that you are completely devoted to your sessions with your new therapist. One week and then you'll be back to playful banter with Matt and Andrew.

You follow along with the words as John reads them aloud, then Tom's response. Tom is quick, relaying the first bit of his dialogue before shaking his head and starting again, not liking the flow of his own delivery. It might help him if you weren't adding a distraction, his arm snaked around your waist, but he won't release you to wander away from his side. You're stuck, for the time being... not that you mind the proximity.

When the doorbell alerts you as to the arrival of the food, you peck Tom on the cheek and give him a little wink as the both of shift apart, readying to move towards the door. He looks a bit puzzled by your excitement over the food's arrival. You keep ahead of him, and have your card out and ready to hand to the delivery person before Tom can set down his pages. He joins you quickly with John close behind him. You pass off the boxes to Tom to free up your hands in order to add an extra tip to the total and sign the receipt.

Tom only questions you one the door is closed. "The prospect of pizza that exciting, is it?"

"Mmmm hmmm." You follow along behind him as he leads the way to the kitchen.

He studies you in a sidelong glance over his shoulder, calling your bluff. "No. That's not it. So, tell me... What was that look for?"

John, having supervised the delivery from a few paces behind Tom, has already joined the other two bodyguards – holding out an empty plate towards you as Tom sets the boxes on the kitchen table. You decline John's offering, choosing instead to bump your hip into Tom's while you stuff your card into your back pocket once more. "Hmmm, I got to pay today."