What's Past is Prologue (A Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction)

Chapter Twelve

As soon as the door closed, Tom surprised me by lifting me up in his arms and heading towards the stairs.

"What the hell? Where are you taking me?"

"To my bedroom."

I stared at him before cracking a smile. "That's a little forward, don't you think?"

"God, that sounded bad, didn't it? That's not what I meant," he said, carrying me up the stairs with ease. "My bed is extremely comfy. There's no better place in the world when you're feeling ill."

Oh, I knew about his bed. I had dreams about his bed - in many different situations. The nights I had stayed over at Tom's place in the past always found me sleeping in his guest bedroom, but I had always wondered what his California king size bed with down pillows and comforter felt like.

He lay me gently on the mattress and I sank into the sheets.

I groaned. "It feels like heaven." I smiled when Tom replied with his usual "Hehehe!"

Of course, the sheets smelled of him, and I couldn't help but breathe them in as soon as Tom left the room to get me a glass of water and a paracetamol. I was definitely buzzed if not drunk - both on the alcohol and Tom. My lord, his sheets smelled so good.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I should've changed the sheets before setting you in there," Tom said, walking back into the room with my water and catching me off-guard. "Here," he set down the glass on the bedside table, "Let me get you some clean bedding."

Springing up, I reached for his arm. "No, that's okay. It's not a problem." Uh-oh. I moved too fast and the room started spinning once more. I quickly leaned back on the glorious feather pillows and closed my eyes. Breathe.

Fingers tracing the side of my face startled me. Tom was on the bed next to me, resting on one elbow, his other hand tucking loose strands of hair behind my ear.

"A little woozy, are we darling?" he said with a smile.

His touch was even more intoxicating than the alcohol in my system, and it took me a moment to register his words. " Shut up," I said without meaning it. "I'm jealous of your higher tolerance."

With a breathy chuckle, he gently kissed me on my forehead and stood. "Let's get you to bed." He gestured for me to stand.

"What?"

Glancing at my outfit, he raised his right eyebrow. "Well, you're not going to sleep in that, are you?"

I looked at myself and shrugged. Honestly, I could wear anything in that bed and still be comfortable. I thought about how one could steal a mattress without the owner knowing. Tom would have to be on one of his many international trips, and I could...

A pair of black, cotton athletic shorts and a navy blue t-shirt dropped onto my lap. "Here, put those on. You can change in there." He pointed to the attached master bathroom. "You can take a shower too, if you want. That is, if you can stand long enough." He flashed a smirk that I wanted to slap off his face. Or kiss.

Oh god. I really was drunk.

I stood, taking the provided clothes with me. "I think I'll take a nice, cold shower," I muttered.

As I closed the bathroom door, I swear I heard Tom say, "I'd be happy to join you," but I couldn't be sure.

*****

Ugh. I shouldn't have wiped the steam off the mirror. Even after my shower I looked awful. Mascara drooped from my eyes, emphasizing the dark half-circles underneath so I looked like the walking dead. Well, the standing dead anyway.

With a light tap on the door, Tom popped his head in, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Are you decent?" he asked.

I was wrapped in a towel I had found on a shelf above the toilet. Like Tom's comforter, the towel was soft and fluffy. "Decent enough," I said, doing my best to wipe away mascara with my index fingers.

Tom opened his eyes and looked me up and down. Slowly. Deliberately. If I wasn't in the slow and tedious process of sobering up, I would've assumed he was checking me out.

"Yes?" I asked.

He cleared his throat. "I just-- erm, I mean... You saw me in the shower this morning. I'm only repaying the favor."

I laughed. "Except I didn't cause a commotion in your shower."

Instinctively, he rubbed his elbow and frowned. "Hey, that hurt. At least my shower doesn't have any death traps."

"Did you only come in here to insult my poor, broken shower caddy?"

"No." He opened the door fully and slowly walked over to me, keeping his eyes on mine the entire time. Did it suddenly get hotter in that bathroom, or what?

Stopping right in front of me, he paused. Maybe the alcohol had messed with my depth perception or something, because Tom felt extremely close. I tried and failed to keep myself from blushing when I remembered I was only wearing a towel. With him standing so close, all of my senses were heightened. I could hear his breathing pick up along with mine, and smell a sweet mixture of wine, deodorant, and... Tom. Impossibly, his eyes were even brighter when he looked down at me, even with his dark pupils taking up most of the space. He was everywhere and everything in that moment.

I bit my lower lip to moderate my breathing -- my horrible habit that I continue to do even though I doubt it works. Why did he have to have this effect on me? My best friend. My Tom.

He gently cupped my chin with his right hand -- a perfect fit -- and I couldn't help but lean into him.

"Ellie," he whispered, his eyes dropping to my lips as he bent closer.His thumb caught my bottom lip, releasing it. I inhaled right before...

My phone rang. My stupid phone actually rang. You'd think I was in some movie the way it happened. As soon as the first notes of "Rather Be" by Clean Bandit blared out of my iPhone, the moment was gone. Tom instantly stepped back and reached over my shoulder, opening the cabinet and flashing a crinkly plastic-covered thing in my face.

"Toothbrush," he stated. "That's what I came in here for. To give you a toothbrush." It sounded as if he was trying to convince himself as well as me. "You should probably answer that," he said when my phone rang a second time.

"Right. Sure. Yeah." I shook my head before returning to Tom's bedroom to retrieve my backstabbing phone.