Ice Cold (Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction)

Too Close

As soon as I wake up, I rack my brain to remember the details of last night. Tom picked me up, drove me home, walked me in, and I passed out. Nothing really happened. I need to call Emily to make sure she dropped my car here. I pick my phone up and find her contact.

It rings. And rings. And rings again. No answer. Crap. I'm gonna need it to get to work. I pull back the curtains to see the parking lot, hoping my car is sitting between two white lines. Nothing. I need to get ready.

I shower, dress, and make coffee for myself. I have leftover time to watch the news, something that I almost never get to do. Sitting on the couch, I sip at my freshly brewed coffee and vaguely listen to the news anchor drawl on and on about the weather being unusually warm in Maryland today. I sigh an try to call Emily again, this time she answers.

"Hello?"

"Hi Emily, it's Jo. Do you still have my car?"

"Oh! I, uh, drove it to work, thinking that since you got a ride home, you can get a ride to work." Her sheepish voice sounds ashamed of herself.

"Um, Tom took me home last night. I don't think he wants to bring me to work too."

"I have his number! Write it down and you can call him to take you to work. I'd pick you up myself, but it wouldn't make sense to drive both ways." She rattles off Tom's phone number and I struggle to write it down on the palm of my hand.

"Ok then, see you soon." I hang up and dial the new number. My heart pounds, I've never called a celebrity before, despite my job position. It rings.

"Hello?" A British accent breathes flawlessly through the line.

"Tom?"

"Yes? This is?"

"Hey Tom! It's Jo."

"Joan! How did you sleep? You were awfully tired last night. I was worried about you."

"I was fine thanks! Um, so Emily still has my car."

"And you need a ride to work?"

"Yes. Please."

"Ehehe." He chuckles, "Of course! I'm not too far from your place anyway. I'll see you in ten minutes?"

"Great. Thank you so much! See you soon! Bye."

"Bye, Jo." I hang up and gather my things. My arms are full with my purse, a coat, and spare keys. The T.V. drones on and I realize that it should probably be turned off. As I reach for the remote, I hear a knock at my door. Quickly, I switch the T.V. off and rush to the door. I open it and in its frame, stands a tall, thin, British, man. His lips crack into a grin when I open up.

"Hello Joan. Are you ready, love?"

"Um," I glance back into my apartment, "Yea, lets go!" Together, we walk down the steps and chat idly about the weather, the movie, and our plans for later.

"My mom was gonna visit me in a few weeks just to see how I'm doing. She said she's really excited to see the movie! I hope it turns out good." Tom's face is stern, listening intently, as if what I have to say could be the code to save the world.

"What do you mean if it's good? I'm starring in it right?" His cheeks pull tight and his blue eyes crinkle as he chuckles at his own joke. I roll my eyes sarcastically.

We made it down inside the lobby of the complex and step outside. The sky is blue and the sun welcomes my newfound presence with a gift of warmth. Reaching Tom's car, he steps ahead and grabs the door handle, gently tugging it open for me. I smile in thanks and duck in.

The car ride to set presents an awkward silence (for me anyway.) He digs in his pocket and pulls out his iPod, handing it to me.

"Find something you like, Joan."

I scroll and find lots of classical music, Shakira, some Will Smith, R&B stuff. Adele? Hm, his taste of music is wide ranged. I select something at random and let it shuffle through. Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" comes on after the first two songs, and Tom starts mumbling the lyrics. Slowly, he breaks into a full on karaoke, bobbing his head, bouncing his knee (foot still on the pedal), and slapping the steering wheel. The chorus comes on and he throws his head back, singing like no one is watching.

"Do-on't stop. Believin'! Hold on to that feeeelling yea-ah!" I couldn't help but laugh at his openness. But he soon gets carried away and the car starts to drift into the next lane, directly towards oncoming traffic.

"THOMAS!" I screech. His eyes fly open and his gaze lands on the road. Everything is in slow motion now. One hand grips the steering wheel, knuckles turn white. The other arm flys out in front of my chest, protecting me from flying forward. My hands find the door and the console of the car, and I don't let go. He pulls the wheel to the left, trying to turn away from the traffic. Barely, just barely, we skid out of the way. He pulls over on the shoulder of the road and stops it.

"Oh, God." He whispers to himself. he put his elbows on the steering wheel, head in his hands. I'm still catching my breath, and as I do, I can see his back rise and fall with every breath. "Oh, God." He repeats and sits up. His eyes fly to me so fast, I think he could've gotten whiplash. "Jo, are you alright?!" His breath is exasperated and staggered.

"Yeah, uh, I am. You?"

"Yes." He curses under his breath and rests his head on the headrest behind him.

"Tom, I'm fine, really. No one got hurt, and nothing was damaged." His eyes look at me sternly, yet still full of worry.

"Joan, that could've ended very differently. Because of my carelessness I could've hurt you, the innocent people in that other car. Joan you could've-" I stop him.

"But I didn't, okay?" The song ends and Shakira starts playing. Frantically, he jams his fingers at the radio, stopping the music. Tom sighs and turns the key to start his car again. I notice his eyes focused intently on the road now, a new sense of awareness. No music plays. Just the quiet ride the rest of the way to the filming.

I'm sooo sorry about the really long delay in publishing!!! I had issues with my phone and, thus, could not write. Again, so sorry. It may be short, but I wanted to put something out soon.