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

Part 19: The Intimate Sleep

A/N:  Hello all! I am blown away by your comments and your votes so far!  Thank you, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart!! 

This is just a short chapter from Tom's POV to keep the story going. Please keep voting and, mostly, commenting. Your input means so much!

I hope you enjoy this!

There's Something About Mia (Tom's POV)

After putting away our mugs, Mia and I walk upstairs together for bed. I feel a little shy at the sleepover, and I think Mia feels the same way. It's odd how two people can experience something as intimate as we've shared so far, but something like spending the night together seems somehow more intimate.

"I'm just going to take a quick shower," I say as we make it to my bedroom. "Okay," Mia replies with a brief smile. Should I have asked her if she wanted a shower? Should I have asked her if she wanted to join me?

I step into the ensuite and I disrobe. Turning on the shower toward almost scalding, I step into the spray to relax and think for a bit.

I somehow feel we may be doing this wrong, like its out of order. Maybe it should have been day on the town, supper, truth or dare, discovery of social media stories, argument, then sex. Or maybe we should have just started with sex when we met this morning. That was my initial urge at the time.

Mia had seemed so vulnerable after the run-in with Harry, then after she allowed me to take care of her, treat her wounds with care, I had felt so protective yet so vulnerable myself at the same time. And that first kiss. Yup, if I had my way, we would have ended up in Mia's bed and not my own.

I'm not complaining, not in the least. I've felt this strong connection, this strong pull, toward Mia since I first saw her, and frankly, I knew I had to have her.  It's not just having her in the physical sense, though that was certainly there from the start. No, there is something about her that makes me want her in body, mind, and spirit, not to own her, but to explore her, care for her, become a better person because I'm with her. And I don't know if I've ever felt that way about a woman.

Being with Mia is such a give and take, a yin and yang if you will. It makes my heart soar when I do something that makes her happy and I feel just as elated when she does the same for me. I've never been with someone with whom the relationship has been so evenly matched on the give-and-take side of things. More often than not, it feels like I'm giving, giving, giving, while receiving little in return. While it is true that the gift is often in the giving, being on the receiving end is nice sometimes, too.

As I finish my shower, I start to think in detail about our day. It's insane all the things that happened to us. I chuckle to myself about a few of the events: Mia's surprise at the things I knew about her, the little war she and the waitress had at the pub, running from fangirls. My thoughts move to some of our saucier activities: kissing in the alley, my unexpected but welcome accidental time in her cleavage, the way she called me a dirty boy. Calm down, Tom, I tell myself. I also think about the sweet things: Mia asking oh-so-hesitantly if I really think her acting is good and her description of the places she wants to see and experience; and my revelation that I want to go to these places and have these experiences with her.

I've spent so much of my life planning: planning my education, planning my career, planning my direction and choices. Even many of my relationships have seem planned. Find a girl I'm attracted to, check; see if we have things in common, check; plan the perfect first date, check; make sure to act the gentleman and wait for the opportunity for the first kiss, check.

Maybe, now that I think about it, I have been planning too much, especially when it comes to relationships. Maybe the haphazardness of ours so far is how it's supposed to be. After all, it would be a little boring to tell our children, 'I met your mum. We seemed to get along well, so I asked her for a date. I was a perfect gentleman, and then I kissed her.'

Instead, I'd rather say, 'The first time I met your mum, I helped her zip her dress. On our first date, I saved her from a prince, we drank pints while she put her feet in my lap, we got a little exercise by going for a run, and we ended the date with an enjoyable taxi ride back to my flat. From there, I knew she was mine and I hers.'

I smile to myself at this, both for the story Mia and I have written together so far, but because I'm daring to think that she could be the mother of my children.

As I prepare to exit the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my waist, I peek out the door. Mia is already in bed asleep.

I walk to my dresser and quietly take out a pair of pyjama bottoms. I change into them quickly and crawl into bed beside Mia, careful not to disturb her. She turns toward me, and snuggles up against me in her sleep. She sighs softly and smacks her lips slightly. For a moment, I have a hard time not snickering. Then, I realize that Mia is only wearing the t-shirt I gave her. Control yourself, Tom, or you'll have even a harder time in a minute, I admonish myself.

As I settle into the bed, adjusting Mia and myself for sleep, I can't help but think how this feels right. It feels so right, I can't imagine it ever being wrong - the way we met, the crazy things that have happened, the speed at which some of them have happened - no, it's all perfect in my mind. And well, frankly, if this is all wrong, well then...maybe I don't want to be right.

I slip into sleep snuggling Mia, hoping she will be the woman that I hold like this forever.