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

Chapter Twenty-two

AN: Thank you so much for reading :)

"You're kidding. From thirty yards away? A bullseye?"

Across the table full of Thai food, Tom nodded, confirming that he was a brilliant archer as well as everything else. Honestly, there was nothing that man couldn't do.

"It may have been the only bullseye I shot from that distance, but I was still proud of myself."

I know it's cliché, but it's crazy how so much can change even when things are exactly the same. The Giggling Squid, for example, was still painted in the dark reds and browns it was two years ago. The drifting smell of Thai food filled the restaurant, and brought back the fond memories of the night Tom and I first met. This time, he offered the cushioned bench seat to me when we arrived at our table, now comfortably familiar with my preference of padded places.

Two years, I thought as I looked across the table at the embodied dream-come-true that was Tom Hiddleston. It felt like the lifetime of an ancient tortoise and that of an insignificant mayfly at the same time. It struck me then that I had never felt the way I did for him for anyone else in all my life.

I loved Ryan. At least I think I did. I must have loved him in some way. Hell, I was going to marry the man. But there was always something lacking in the relationship. Nothing tangible, but something... more.

Watching Tom take another bite of his prawn salad — the most mundane and unalluring action — I knew that whatever it was that I was missing with Ryan, I had stumbled across in Tom. I had literally stumbled across his lap, and later I fell in love.

Love. Oh crap.

"I'd give anything to know what you're thinking right now," Tom said with a soft smile. "You're eyes just about shot out of their sockets a moment ago."

"I'm fine," I lied. "Just can't believe you're eating that. It looks so gross."

It was a cover-up, but I wasn't totally lying. The freaky shrimplike creatures made my stomach flip.

"Gross? I'll admit, it's nothing like the fresh prawns they serve along the Mediterranean, but they're still delicious. Have you ever eaten prawns?"

I shook my head. Tom mimicked my action, feigning disappointment as he gathered a portion between his chopsticks and held it out to me expectantly.

"Uh, no thanks."

"Oh, come on. They're really good. Trust me."

He moved the medley closer still so the smell invaded my nostrils. It actually didn't smell too bad, but there was no way I was sharing that thought with Tom.

"I swear, Hiddleston, if you don't get that thing out of my face..."

"What will you do, Donahue?" He tried and failed to hold back a grin.

Before I could think of a clever response, he moved to sit on my side of the table, one arm resting on the bench behind me, the other still dangling the shellfish salad in front of me, effectively pinning me in.

"What will you do, El?" he asked again, though this time it came out as a whisper. He was still toying with me and enjoying it far too much.

With a sigh, I took the offered bite, and gave no indication of my surprise delight as I swallowed the prawn salad.

Whenever Tom laughs, it's almost impossible not to join in. This time was no different as we laughed like fools for what felt like minutes. When I finally caught my breath, Tom was right there. I took in our proximity, the way his fingers traced across the back of my neck, and nothing more.

"You've got something..." he set the chopsticks on the table and reached up to brush something green and leafy from my lower lip.

Was it my imagination, or did his thumb linger on my lip longer than necessary?

His fingers moved to tilt my chin upward as he inched closer, his heavy lids dropping to peek at my lips. Yes, please.

Over his shoulder, something caught my eye, and I turned away in time for his kiss to land on my jaw.

This didn't seem to deter him, however, as he placed another kiss on my jaw, as if he had planned the first one that way too.

"Tom," I said softly, trying not to lose myself in him.

"Hmm?"

"I think someone on the other side of the restaurant has recognized you."

"Oh, yeah?" He moved his head back ever so slightly; enough for him to glance at my lips once more.

"Yeah. I think they're taking pictures on their phone." It was true. A young couple in the opposite corner of the room had their phones positioned in a way that there was no mistaking their intentions.

"Then let them," he said before his lips landed on mine.