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

Chapter Eighteen

All those TV shows and movies where the protagonist rushes to meet their friend at the hospital and they get in with no questions asked... well, they're fake. Hollywood magic. Tom and immediately got sent to the visitor's waiting room upon arrival, no matter how many times we explained that we were friends of the Cumberbatches and we were there to deliver the all-important slippers. Tom even played the celebrity card. It got him nowhere.

This found us in a pale blue-gray room with couches that were way more comfortable than they looked. There was another man near the entrance of the waiting room totally immersed in BBC One, but Tom and I had tucked ourselves away in a quiet, dimly-lit corner, too concerned to watch EastEnders or Think Tank, or whatever happened to be on at the moment. I sat on one end of the couch, knees tucked to the side, with my shoes, purse, and Sophie's slippers on the floor in front of me. I watched as Tom paced back and forth, anxiously watching his phone.

"Anything?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

He shook his head. "Not yet. His phone must be dead."

"Or..."

"Or..." We locked eyes and smiles spread across our faces simultaneously.

"Or it's happening!" I said, barely keeping my voice down.

Tom chuckled and sat down next to me, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. "You act as if it's your own child being born."

"Well," I checked my watch, "Assuming the little bugger is out within the next two hours, we'll share a birthday." I smiled. "Plus, I do get to name it."

"Ah," he said, subtly scooting closer. "That's right. Eleanor if it's a girl... But what if they have a boy?"

I shrugged. "Eleanor could be a boy's name too."

In our fit of laughter, I shifted. Somehow we ended up facing each other, each of us resting our heads in our hands as we leaned on the back of the couch. My bent knees hovered above his lap, and if I were to relax... if I were to lean into him...

We watched each other for a long moment, and of all the times I shared with Tom up until this point, this would be the one I'd choose to last an eternity. I watched his pupils shift back and forth as he watched mine, trying his best to read what was under the surface.

Instinctively, I peeked at his lips. Kiss me, I thought, before immediately wondering what was wrong with me. But what was so wrong about it? The way he was looking at me... the way he always treated me. What if there really was something there? Something... more?

For a second I dared to dream.

"You are created of every creature's best," Tom said softly, and the corner of his mouth slowly lifted.

My expression matched his own. How perfect that he would choose a line from The Tempest as a storm of another kind was brewing in my chest. "You should be saying that into a mirror."

He rested and hand on my knee, inching it ever so slightly across my thigh. I was wrong before. This is the moment that could last forever. The instant his fingers touched my skin at the hem of my dress, everything sped up: my breathing, my heartbeat, my imagination running through all possible scenarios. I couldn't help but stare as Tom's tongue delicately wet his bottom lip.

"I especially adore your eyes," he continued, his voice huskier than before, "And how expressive they are." He inched closer still. "And even though you may verbally deny it, your eyes tell me what it is you truly desire."

"And what is it I wish for now?" I whispered, more than happy to play along. I dropped my elbow from the back of the couch and tilted my head so our lips were only inches apart.

He grinned in response, moving his hand from cradling his own head to cup the back of mine. "This."

His lips met mine and the world froze. All that existed was the connection between us. It was slow and gentle and unsure, but... perfect.

Simultaneously, we sighed and moved to deepen the kiss, Tom's hand now fully splayed across my lower back, forcing me to stay with him and match his movements.

After what felt like an eternity (in the best way possible), Tom pulled back ever so slightly, placing one last kiss on my jaw. I could feel his breath on my neck, and it wasn't helping in the task of slowing my own.

"Wow," I whispered.

Tom looked up at me and grinned, as seemingly dazed as I was. "Indeed."

Oh, crap. What just happened?

Before I could freak out or over-analyze anything, we heard footsteps from the opposite side of the room, and found Benedict practically jumping out of his skin before us.

"It's a... boy," he said, eyes bouncing between us with curiosity. "Did I interrupt something? Doesn't matter. I have a son!"

Tom and I shared a secret smile before I stood and enveloped Benedict in a congratulatory hug.

"I'm so happy for you and Sophie! Did you pick out a name yet?" I asked.

"Please don't say 'Eleanor'," said Tom from the couch.

I discreetly raised my eyebrows at him, silently asking why he was still sitting there. In response, he cleared his throat and shifted. I looked down at his hands folded in his lap and immediately blushed, secretly over the moon that from one kiss I could get Tom... all worked up. Ahem.

"Sorry, Ellie, we broke our end of the bet," said Benedict. He was non-stop smiling since he walked into the room, already the embarrassingly proud father he would be for that child the rest of his life. "His name is Christopher. Christopher Carlton Cumberbatch."

I let out a little squeal, regressing to the fangirl that I was. The men laughed.

"Would you like to meet him?" Benedict asked.

I was already dragging Benedict out of the waiting room door by the time Tom could say, "I'll meet you there."