A Wicked Twist (A Tom Hiddleston Fanfic)

The Wedding

I have a restless night's sleep but I can't pinpoint it to a specific reason. My on again off again sleep regime means that by eight o'clock I'm showered and sat at the breakfast bar, in my pyjamas, eating a bowl of Coco Pops with my phone for entertainment. The ceremony is at two but I've got to be over at Ben and Sophie's cottage for nine to get ready with the rest of her entourage, and by entourage I mean Sophie, her mum, myself and two of Sophie's closest friends. We'd all had strict instructions from Sophie's mum, who'd been flapping more than Sophie, to be there at nine, and as the other two were staying elsewhere I didn't want to be the one who was late. Whilst we are to get ready at Ben and Sophie's, Ben and the guys are heading down to the Manor, at around nine, to get ready there because the owners have opened up some of the upstairs rooms for them to use, which is very nice of them. As I'm lazily scrolling through Twitter, liking and retweeting away, passing the time till I can reasonably head on over, I hear a knock at the door.

"I'll get it" Mick calls from down the hall so I stay seated whilst retweeting a Tweet that has amused me.

"Ah hem" someone clears their throat and I jump knocking my spoon out of the bowl and leaving chocolate milk all over the counter top.

"You genuinely are trying to kill me" I grumble, moving to get a cloth but he is faster and already has some kitchen towel in his hands and begins to clean up my mess. "Thank you" I say, slightly mesmerised by the way the muscles flex in his forearm as he wipes the surface.

He looks up and grins at me, "I seem to make you jump a lot, or are you just easily scared?" Tom asks with a lazy grin.

"Hmmm. A bit of both?" I offer, "Anyway, what can I do for you?" I shrug off the slight awkwardness I'm feeling. "Lost your tie already?" It's my turn to grin at him as he looks slightly shifty.

"No, nothing like that" he chuckles, regaining his composure and throwing the paper towel into the recycling. "Ben asked me to check you were alright, after last night I mean." If my face fell, he didn't acknowledge it.

"I'm perfectly fine" I sigh and he raises an eyebrow at me as he crosses his arms over his chest as if he doesn't believe me. "Honest I am. Will take more than some rumours to upset me, especially when they're not true" I slide off my stool and move to the sink to wash out my bowl.

"Cute pyjamas" he comments as I reach the sink.

"Huh?" I look down, I'm wearing my unicorn pyjama bottoms, "Oh they are aren't they" I smile at him and stick my leg out to show him better. I know he was trying to be funny but I love them, they're so comfy.

"You like your mythology then?" He enquires, leaning forward on the breakfast bar whilst I wash up.

"Bit of a leap from pink pjs with little white unicorns to mythology, but yeah, I love mythology actually, but mostly I just thought these bottoms were awesome" I comment with a shrug.

"That they are" he smiles at me, "So you are quite clearly alright and not too traumatised so I'd best let the groom know so he can stop worrying."

"You do that. Give him a slap and tell him I'm tougher than I look." I laugh this time, drying my hands on a towel.

"Ok one slap coming up." He grins widely this time as he pushes himself up of the counter. I escort him to the door. "See you in a few hours" he says as he steps out into the crisp February air.

"That you will" I reply, and watch as he jogs effortlessly back over to his cottage before closing the door to the winter chill.

Two hours later I'm sat curled up in a very comfy armchair, still in my pjs, nursing a cup of tea watching Rosie do Sophie's hair. Sophie's mum is busy fussing around, whilst Amanda applies ever more layers of foundation to her face. I'm pretty sure 'applied with a trowel' was coined for her. Amanda is one of Sophie's best friends, born into money, and highly opinionated. She's not entirely horrible, but I'm just not comfortable with her level of perfection. Rosie is another of Sophie's best friends and she, unlike Amanda, was more my type of person. She was born in Manchester, worked hard for everything she has achieved and loved musical theatre. Yes Rosie is definitely more on my wavelength than Amanda. We continue chatting away, mainly about inconsequential things, for the next twenty minutes or so until a clattering of makeup being put away signals that Amanda has finished and, more importantly, is happy with her masterpiece.