Just in Time (A Tom Hiddleston Fan Fic)

Chapter 3: Tequila Shots and Breaks

One year later...

Tom's episode came off without a hitch. We decided to stay away from the predictable Tom Hiddleston fandom, and focus on something more foundational.

We used the budding storyline of two of our regular characters who are falling in love. The male character is trying to do something impressive for their first real date, but the female just wants something simple. When the male character is later explaining to one of the main characters how it went, he says, "In the end, do you know what made her happiest? Just me telling her I like her and want to be with her." 

At this, Tom's character, Chris, enters on cue. As Tom/Chris asks how the date went, the male character responds, "It actually went really well," to which Tom/Chris replies,

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind."

The episode was received very well by fans and critics both, and it was actually nominated for an Emmy. More importantly, we had a great time making it, and Tom and I became fast friends.

"When will you be back in London?" I ask as we talk on the phone. Tom and I are always in different time zones it seems, but we somehow manage to talk every few days, and we text almost daily. I've found Tom to be a great sounding board for my ideas, crazy and otherwise, and I believe I provide a calming influence in his overly-hectic life. That, or I'm just the comic relief.

"At the end of the month. Why, are you planning to pay a visit?" he asks.

"No, I just know it's been, what, two months since you've been home? I think you need a break."

"Yes, Mother.  But what about you? When does Kenni get a break?"

"I don't do breaks, Hiddleston. You know that," I say, chewing on a fingernail.

"You have to take a break sometime," he says through a yawn. He's in Tuntenhausen, or Trondheim, or Transylvania right now. His locales all run together after a time.

"What time are you due on set?" I ask. I can hear him moving around to see a clock. That means he's in bed. Don't think of Tom in bed, don't think of Tom in bed, I repeat in my head.

"In about six hours," he replies with a sigh.

"You need to get some sleep, young man," I say, looking at my own clock to figure out when I last ate.

"Yes, ma'am," Tom replies in mock sternness.

As I start to sign off, Tom says, "Kenni, you really need to take a break. God knows I need a break. Maybe we can break somewhere together? Besides, I want to talk with you...in person...about a project I've been thinking of."

I sigh and say, "We'll see," and tell Tom to get some sleep.

After I hang up, I walk to the kitchen to rummage for food. I try not to think about Tom, and the possibility of seeing him again. It reminds me of the last time we were together.

Three months ago...

Tom was in LA for a premier. It wasn't his film, but a good friend's, so he wanted to attend to support the project.

"So, where do you want to eat?" he asks, making time for dinner with me on his last night in town.

"Anywhere except the pub," I say. Tom laughs, knowing that I'd rather sing the National Anthem naked before drunk frat boys than go to the pub again. It's not that it's a bad place; it's just that every time Ben is in town, which seems like a lot recently, he insists on eating there. Every. Single. Time.