Tom Hiddleston Oneshots

And That Was I Love You

With one sturdy push and a loud groan coming from me and the ancient door, I was finally home. Dropping my purse onto the floor and kicking the door behind me closed with one leg, I unwrapped the heavy wool knit scarf around my neck, tossed it to the side and slipped out of my puffy coat.

 Wincing at the shooting pain coursing through my feet from walking around all day in some very fashionable but not very comfortable boots, and sitting uncomfortably all day in the office, doing some catching up with my work. I turned my attention to the man lying on the couch with a weary sleepy look on his face from just waking up from a nap and a penguin classic novel lying on his chest. I kicked my shoes off and shook my head, silently urging him to not speak.

"Tired?" Tom asked even when I insisted on him to not ask any questions. Nodding my head, I walked over to where he slept and lay down right beside him. His arms instinctively wrapped around my body, hugging me close to his body, providing the warmth I needed as I rested my face on his chest and splayed a hand on his stomach.

"Yes." I allowed my heavy eyelids to fall and close. Sleep was invading my senses quickly and with the smell of fresh linen lighting my senses, I was a goner.

"Want to talk about your day?" Tom asked lightly, always up for a conversation.

I shook my head, groaning in protest.

Sleep. That's what I wanted.

"What about yours? Tell me about your day." I offered, a yawn following shortly. His voice always managed to soothe my nerves, calming me down enough to get some shut eye.

"Well, not very exciting." I felt his chest rumble from his low chuckle he let out. Smiling warmly with my eyes closed, I felt like I was in heaven. "I read over some pages of the new script...Did some chores around the house...Had a nice jog around the park and I started reading but I fell asleep..."

Unknowing to him was that I had already fallen into a light slumber before he even finished his first sentence. If I had been awake, I would have seen a small smile spread on his thin lips and would have a stronger memory of him pressing a gentle kiss on my forehead.

I would have recognized the soft gentle touches he did without realization like the slow circles he drew with his thumb on my bare shoulder. And although I do remember something being whispered into my ear, if I had been awake, I would have known for sure what he had said.

And that was 'I love you.'