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

Chapter Seventeen

The rest of the party was perfect. Tom didn't leave my side all night, except when one of us went to get another drink or go to the bathroom. He stood next to me as I chatted with my coworkers, complaining about clients and other office matters that Tom didn't have to listen to. But he did.

James was the only one from the office who wasn't there. When I asked Tom about it, he stared at me for a beat, and when the corner of his mouth turned up, he covered it by downing the last of his whiskey and turning away to pour another glass.

By 8:30, everyone but Tom had finally gone home since most of us had to work in the morning. Ryan and Tori were the last to leave. I promised Tori that Tom and I would meet them for coffee while they were still in the city, and that yes, I could get Tom to sign her copy of The Avengers.

"Well, that was fun, wasn't it?" Tom said from the kitchen, already beginning to clean up the glasses and bottles scattered on every surface. "Bit of a messy group, though, aren't they?" he muttered. From his slightly glazed over eyes and relaxed posture, I could tell Tom had been drinking, though not enough that he would be considered drunk. We were both at that comfortably happy, buzzed stage.

"You should see the office. Creative people aren't always the cleanest. Though I'm sure you know all about that."

He chuckled.

"I do wish Sophie could've made it though," I muttered. "And Benedict."

"I'm not sure where they are. I did invite them, though." He checked his phone quickly before slipping it back into his pocket and resuming his tidying.

"Let me help you." I walked to the living area to start cleaning up. Picking up one of Chris's empty Heineken bottles, I smirked. That man was going to have some trouble in the morning. While everyone else took it slow, knowing it was only Monday, Chris had decided to live a little and drink a lot. "I should've asked for my birthday week off. I don't know what I was thinking."

Tom hummed. "Maybe you could take an extended weekend?"

I nodded, letting the conversation come to a natural lull as Tom filled the sink and began washing glasses.

"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," I said. "I can wash those later."

Shaking his head, he continued to wash the dishes. "And what sort of surprise party host would that make me?" He laughed softly, and I could tell that he was winding down for the night. No doubt he had been having a busy few weeks preparing for his upcoming miniseries while he was also planning this party. And I was the one who was dreading going into my easy office job the next morning. A sudden thought occurred to me; one that I had somehow managed to ignore throughout the night.

"Tom?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Where's Elizabeth?"

His hands stilled in the sink and he looked away. He filled the awkward silence by clearing his throat. "I suppose she's at home."

Her home or yours? I wanted to ask, though I knew it was none of my business.

Tom must have seen something in my expression, because he dried off his hands and came over to where I was still gathering bottles in the living room. Or, at least, I had been gathering them. I wasn't sure when it was that I completely stopped to watch Tom.

"Ellie," he began, taking the bottles from my grasp, "The thing is... Well, you see..."

Oh, god. Were they going to get married? Was he about to tell me she was pregnant and they're eloping? That she is his one true love and I'm just a sad woman who has been crushing on her best friend in a pitiful attempt to make him love me? I didn't want to hear what news he was about to drop.

"It's okay, Tom. You don't have to explain anything to me," I said, fighting to hold back the tears I knew were only seconds away. Fighting to keep him from telling me everything I didn't want to face.

Tom sighed. "Ellie, Elizabeth and I-"

This time it was Tom's phone that interrupted the heavy moment. With an apologetic look, he pulled it from his pocket with his free hand and frowned at the screen.

"Hello? Benedict?" He glanced at me, worried. "Slow down, what's wrong?"

My heart sank. If anything was wrong with Ben or Soph... please, God. Not the baby. I watched Tom's face for any sign of grief, but when his lips turned upward and his eyes smiled, I knew all was well.

He looked to me. "Well, Ellie is here. Shall I put her on?" he asked down the line. "No, I haven't," he said, quieter and turned away from me. The back of his neck began to turn pink, and I wondered what Benedict could possibly be saying that made Tom flush. "I will. Yes." He listened, and then "And can you tell Sophie I hear her and I'm working on it." With an embarrassed smile, Tom glanced back at me. "All right. Well, here's Ellie."

He held the phone out to me and I raised a brow before putting it to my ear. "Hello?"

"Ah, Ellie. Happy birthday," Benedict's deep voice greeted me. "How was the party? Sorry we couldn't make it, we were-"

In the background, I heard Sophie holler his name and then say something else I couldn't catch.

"Right. Down to business," he continued, somewhat rushed. "Sophie is in labor at hospita-"

"No way!" I screeched and grabbed Tom's arm for support. I practically started jumping up and down, and I could tell by Tom's face that he was enjoying the moment as much as I was.

Benedict added, "Yes, it's all very exciting, but I need you and Tom to go pick something up for us and bring it to the hospital."

"Of course! What do you need?" I asked.

"Well, the wonderful husband and father-to-be that I am, I grabbed the wrong slippers." Another unintelligible chime-in from Sophie. "How am I supposed to know the difference between walnut and hickory? Brown is brown."

I laughed and Tom raised his infamous eyebrow.

"Anyway," Benedict said, "I called Tom hoping he could run and grab them for me, but Sophie says she no longer trusts men to know colours, so I'm glad you're there. What do you say? Will you help a man out? I'd like to live to see the birth of my first child."

After promising Benedict we wouldn't let him down, he gave us the address to the hospital and Tom called a cab. With only a quick detour to Tom's house to grab the spare key to the Cumberbatch's, and a quick Google search of the color 'hickory', we arrived at the hospital in 45 minutes. I prayed I had the correct slippers. Who knew one woman could have so many slippers in different shades of brown?