Limerence (Tom Hiddleston fanfiction)

Chapter 7

He strides across the room, half naked, dripping wet gathering his pj's from the closet and returning to the bathroom. 

I need a dose of that sight everyday. His smile. His skin. That sexy ass. When he returns he hands me some pajama pants and a t-shirt. 

"And this?" he smiles and props up next to me. 

"Get dressed and get in bed next to me." Oh dear. He chuckles when he realizes how that sounded, I try to shrug it off, but okay - if you insist. "How was the pasta?"

"It was amazing. You really do kick my ass in the kitchen." I scoot off the bed and grab the clothes. "Hope you like my choice of movie." he looks up. 

"Ehehehe, very nice." he takes his plate and scoops up a forkful. "I drew you a bath, I hope you'll find everything you need." 

"You did? Thank you, see you in a bit." I close the door behind me, feeling so strange getting undressed, knowing that he is one door away from seeing me naked. Yeesh... then I saw the bath, he had lit a few candles and placed some bath-salts and scented soaps on the cupboard next to them. What a sweetheart... When I soak into the bath a thought pops into my mind involuntarily. Tom has been naked in this room, Tom might have been naked in this bath... Oh my... this was a bit much for me and I could feel my stomach turn nervously.

His clothes just-just fit me, the pajama pants had an elastic waistband, it draped just off of my hipbones and the t-shirt hung loosely from my shoulders, but it was 100% cotton and smelled like him. I quickly hurried across the room and climbed into the bed before he could study me. He was still laying on top of the duvet, so at least something was separating us. 

"Thank you for the bath," He turns to look at me.

"The candles not too much?" I shake my head. "I'm glad. Would you like to watch the movie?" I nod and he smiles as I scoot a bit closer to him. "Okay," he holds his arm out and I rest my head on his chest while he cradles around my back. "I love this movie." I smile as the intro music starts playing and he runs his fingers along the side of my back, causing goosebumps to travel over every inch of my skin. I could feel my eyes getting heavier and my breathing getting more difficult as the cold began to progress. I was so offended at my body, like - how dare you get sick? He held me tighter in the scene with Simba and Mufassa right after the tragic events unfolded, comforting me. 

When I open my eyes and look on the screen, I realize the movie is over and Tom still hasn't moved. I lift my head, only to discover that I had drooled on his shirt, shit! I feel like such an idiot, when I lift my head to look up at him, he is reading and he has his glasses on. He puts the book down when he sees me watching him.

"Hello sleepyhead. How are you feeling?" I rub my nose.

"Not too great." He curls his brows sympathetically. 

"I didn't want to wake you. I ordered some medicine for them to leave at the front desk, I'll have the doorman bring it up." He brushes my hair and smiles. "I'll be right back, how do you take your tea?" I sit upright as he scoots to the edge of the bed picking up the phone.

"Black, weak with one sugar." he nods and walks out of the room while speaking to the front desk. I get up off of the bed and scurry over to my bag on the couch and search for my phone. I have one missed call from Beatrice and it is almost a quarter to eleven. I must've slept for almost two hours. I check to see if I have anything in my bag to make my pink nose and dewy eyes more presentable, but I have nothing. So I look like shit and I have literally been drooling on Tom for the past two hours. Gosh, I really am an amazing date. 

I blow my nose in the bathroom, knowing I should just bolt and head straight for my apartment. I am halfway undressed, standing in his shirt and my red g-string about to pull my jeans on, when he comes into the bathroom. 

"Shit!" he closes his eyes and turns around. "I thought you were still lying in bed, sorry." 

"I'm sorry." I laugh and he joins in.

"Why are you getting dressed?" 

"Because I should be getting home? I'm coming down with a cold and I couldn't possibly allow you to take care of me, we hardly know each other." I quickly pull my jeans on. "Besides, I look terrible, this is not exactly an ideal date scenario."

"Scarlett? Are you clothed?"

"Yes." I touch his shoulder and he turns towards me.

"Look. I know we barely know each other and that this entire night has gone in quite a different direction than I had planned, or at least hoped, but, nevertheless, I insist on you staying for the night and allowing me to take care of you." he stroked the side of my face, tucking my hair behind my ear. "And believe me. You could never look terrible." I knew that this was strange and that my better judgement knew I should probably just go home, I turned around and picked up the pajama pants. 

"Would you mind?" 

"Not in the slightest." He smiles and closes the door behind him.  

I quickly get undressed and dressed again. When I reach his bedroom steam is coming off of my cup of tea on the bed-stand and he is sipping his, eyes closed. He opens them and his lips curl upwards as I crawl up next to him and feel his eyes caressing my skin. 

We drink our tea and he tells me all about the book he is reading. It is about the human condition and our understanding of the world. He tells me about his mother and two sisters and how much he loves them, even though they can also irritate him immensely. He touches on his admiration for hard work and ambition and his father's life advice that always gives him comfort when he doubts himself, which he says happens often in his line of work. He tells me about his fears for working in an industry that is always looking for newer, better talent and is filled with vultures trying to catch you when you fail and exploit it to the world for a good story. He explains to me his annoying need to be the best, for perfection and success in everything he touches. He also tells me about the first time he went to the theatre and that he knew that was where he wanted to be someday. 

He's a realist, but also a dreamer. I tell him that dreamers are people who only dream of things they want to do, and that he isn't a dreamer exactly, he is a doer, because he dreams and sets goals and then he works his ass off to achieve them. 

And after all that I realize why I feel so completely safe with him. He is an undeniably real, strong cup of tea, filled with flavour and authenticity in a world that insists on getting drunk on the cheap wine of society.