Don't Even Know Your Name (Tom Hiddleston short story) (Songfic)

I was listening to Don't Even Know Your Name by A*Teens on my iPod and got the idea for this. Hope you enjoy it.

*

I sat down on the bus in my usual seat, setting my bag next to me. As I reached beside me to pull out my book I glanced across the aisle at him. He really was such an attractive person. He was tall, about six-two, his dirty blonde hair was a bit messy showing that he ran his fingers through it often, and his eyes were a bright, clear blue, drawing me in. He always looked so sad, but I bet his smile is as amazing as the rest of his face. I wish I could talk to him. I wish I could get over my nerves and sit in the seat next to him. Maybe some kind of relationship could build. Maybe I could be the reason behind his smile.

I didn’t realize I was staring until the bus came to a stop and he turned from the window he was looking out. His dazzling eyes met mine and I felt my face grow hot. He smiled softly at me before I could look away. I couldn’t help but return the gesture. He picked up his messenger bag and strung it over his shoulder as he stood up and passed my feet. I could feel his eyes still on me but I just looked down at my book.  The bus started up again and I glanced out my window, catching him waving slightly. I barely got my hand up in time to wave but when I did I felt like I seemed a bit eager so I put my hand down, blushing again and returned to my book, but I soon found I couldn’t concentrate. I could only think about him and how he saw me staring at him and his smile and the way he waved at me…

The next morning I decided I was going to do it. I of course chickened out, but I managed to slip my note into the pocket of the trench coat that flattered his height and thinness. I had written it down when I got to my seat because I knew I wouldn’t be able to talk to him and when it was his stop I pretended to drop my book when the bus came to a harsh stop as it usually did. He picked it up for me, even though I was already kneeling in front of him to grab it. The aisle was narrow so when we stood up he had to squeeze past me as I went back to my seat. Right there in that awkward chest to chest squeeze I managed to slip the note into his pocket. He smiled down at me and said a soft apology as he went by and I could tell my face was red and all I could do was grin up at him like an idiot. He waved at me again when the bus drove off and this time I was able to wave back without embarrassing myself.

I waited all night by my phone, hoping he’d call. It was the longest night of my life. I looked over at my dog and said, “Maybe he didn’t check his pockets… Or maybe he doesn’t know who put it in there so he won’t call…”

In the morning I got on the bus and walked up to his seat, “May I?”

He looked up from his newspaper and smiled warmly up at me, causing cute little crinkles in the corners of his blue-green eyes, “Oh, please do.” He scooted over as he folded up his paper.

“Thank you,” I smiled, sitting down.

“I’m Tom,” he said, holding out his hand for me to shake as he turned towards me.

“(Y/N)” I said, shaking it.

We sat there in an awkward silence for a moment until he turned to me again, “D’you know I found the strangest thing in my pocket when I got home yesterday.”

“Yeah?” I said, already feeling my face beginning to burn.

“Yeah. It was someone’s number. And I didn’t want to call it, not knowing whose it is, you know, so I just left it alone.” He smiled down at me, “You wouldn’t know whose it might be, by chance, would you?”

I blushed completely and kind of awkwardly laughed, looking away, “It’s er… It’s my number. Yesterday when I dropped my book I put it in your pocket.”

“Oh,” his face brightened. “I was hoping it was, but I didn’t want to take any chances.”

I smiled and nodded, showing that I understood. We sat and chatted until the bus came to his stop. He took my hand and kissed it, “See you later, (Y/N).”

“Goodbye, Tom,” I said, rather dazed.

That night I was doing the usual pizza, booze, telly routine when my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N)? It’s Tom.”