Life Is What You Make It (A Tom Hiddleston Fanfic)

Part 11: A Pint at the Pub

Just a Quick Bite

"Hungry?" Tom asks as we round the next corner. "Famished. In fact, I was about to leave hungry behind and move on to hangry," I respond with a chuckle.

"Hangry?"

"Yeah, you know, like when the Hulk gets angry and hungry: hangry,"

"Well, I've experienced first hand Hulk's anger before, so hangry must be particularly ferocious. We must get you something to eat right away!" he says, with mock urgency as he pulls me toward the entrance to a pub.

We're laughing and practically tripping over each other's feet as we enter. When we see it's only half full with what appears to be a local lunchtime crowd, we try to stifle our giggles (not very successfully) so as not to draw too much attention.

As a waitress comes our way, Tom asks for a table for two toward the back. She obliges our request, but there's something in the look she gives Tom that says she knows who he is. When I glance at Tom, he doesn't seem to be aware of her recognition. Instead, as he follows after me, I sense him doing silly things like making faces behind my back or putting devil horns over my head with his fingers.

Tom helps me into my chair first, then he sits across from me. "Would you care for something to drink?" the waitress asks, looking from Tom to me... Okay, mostly looking at Tom.

Tom clears his throat at the undesired attention, then holds his hand out to me. "Ladies first."

"I believe I'll have a Guinness," I say succinctly. "You mean a pint," the waitress says disdainfully after hearing my American accent. Two can play at that game. "A pint, a pint and a half, whatever if takes," I say as I lean back in my chair so I can lift my legs and plop them, crossed ankle over ankle, in Tom's lap.

I'm not sure who looks more surprised, the waitress or Tom. The waitress then turns to Tom, still with surprise written all over her face, but there's a little challenging look there, too. It's like she's saying to him, "Are you gonna take that from her?"

I look to Tom then back to the waitress. Yes sir, it appears what we have here is an old west style standoff. In fact, I can almost hear the whistling in the background.

Finally, Tom breaks the tension. "I'll have what she's having," he says as he reaches into his lap to massage my calf softly.

With this, the waitress excuses herself with a 'right away' under her breath.

As soon as she's out of earshot, I sigh and take my feet from Tom's lap (though the calf massage with his long fingers was heavenly).

"I'm so sorry, Tom. That was completely inappropriate. I'm sorry I acted like such a fool. I know I embarrassed you," I say lamely while looking at my hands in my lap.

At this, Tom reaches across the small table with his large hand, holding it palm up for me to take. I look to his hand then to his face. He's smiling at me. No, he's actually beaming at me.

"Come on, Darling. Don't leave a fellow waiting. Take my hand, you fool," he says teasingly. Behind the teasing, though, I see a bit of pride on his part that I held my own.

I take his hand with a grin on my own face. As a waitress returns with our pints (a different waitress this time), we order food and continue with our glorious day.

Running the Gauntlet

As we pay the bill (actually, Tom insists on paying, not even allowing me to leave the tip), we head toward the entrance. When we draw closer to the front window, it's easy to see a sizable crowd has gathered of both Loki fans and paparazzi. How do I know they're Loki fans? Because I can see the pictures and posters that they're holding, and one or two are even dressed as the God of Mischief.