Thomas Brodie-Sangster Imagines

Part 5

Y/N P.O.V.

Jumping out of the shower, I wrapped a towel around my body, trying to avoid the cold. I wiped down as I padded into my hotel room, mentally planning out an outfit to wear. I settled on some sweats and boots. This chilly morning was really getting to me.

Walking out the door, I threw my hair up into a messy bun. Apparently, it was just going to be one of those days. Recently, I had been apprenticing the amazing director Wes Ball on his latest movie. Basically, that meant constantly watching over his shoulder, possibly grabbing him a coffee once in a while.

Don't get me wrong, I loved my job. To be honest, I had to remind myself that this was reality every so often. But, as magical as it was on the set of The Death Cure, it was stressful as hell. Even though I was just an....intern, you could say, I still had a lot on my plate. Quite often, I had 15 hour days.

This last week, I had been on set at seven o'clock in the morning, bright an early, and I was let off at around eleven at night, if I had all of my material sent in to Wes. An believe you me, the loads of work and lack of sleep was getting to me.

However, I had one saving grace. And his name was Thomas.

When I had first come to the set of The Scorch Trials, Thomas and I immediately clicked. For the first week or two, I was practically silent, only taking part in the occasional conversation with Wes. Fear and absolute awe had stopped me from contacting any of the cast members. First of all, I wasn't even in their line of work. I was a wanna-be director. They were these huge stars that had been working at their careers their entire lives. They were people that were above me on so many levels. But, apparently, one person in particular did not care about any of these facts.

~~~FLASH BACK~~~

I sat alone in my directors chair, hovered over a laptop, working on developing some scripts. The cast and crew were shooting in the mountains today, and it was fucking freezing. Guess who was the dumbass that forgot to bring a legitimate jacket to set! This girl, right here. I was noticeably shivering in my seat, and I didn't exactly have any meat on me to keep me warm. However, I pressed on, trying to get some work done. My numb fingers sloppily hit the keys on my key board, until someone snapped the computer shut.

"Hey, you ass-" I snapped. When I looked up to see who was standing before me, my voice stopped short. I shrank into my seat, looking up at him.

"Hello, love," Thomas said, sheading his jacket. It was him. The Thomas Brodie-Sangster in all of his glory. This was the first time that I have talked to one of the cast members. And I had just barley called him an asshole. Oh my God. My face must be the color of his scarf, right about now.

"Hey, hey, hey. No. You keep that. I'm f-fine," A gust of wind past through the set, causing a new round of shivers to course through my body. The brit in front of me shook his head, stepping forward. He put the massive blue jacket around my body, and I sub-consciously obliged. While he zipped the thing up, I took a moment to ogle at him.

Fluffy, dirty-blond hair was spiked up into ten different directions, as a result of the wind. Big brown eyes concentrated on bundling me up, getting a stranger out of the cold. His perfect pale skin had smudges of dirt splattered here and there, making it look as if he stepped right out of the scorch. A thin t-shirt and flannel were the only things that shielded his lanky torso from the cold. His deep, husky voice shook me out of my trance.

"You're Y/N, right? One of Wes's...." Thomas's voice faded out as he tried to recall my job title.

"You could say I'm an intern, I guess," I said, helping him out a bit. Apparently, my voice was a bit scratchy from the cold....and possibly lack of use. Wow, Y/N, I thought to myself, real attractive. Mentally, I cringed. A lop-sided grin made it's way onto Thomas's face as he nodded along to my words.