So maybe your life is in shambles and you run away to London to get your head straight. Sure, you don't really have a plan but the Universe does, and before you know it, some kid from Kingston has completely turned your world upside and your body i...
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"Where is the dressing?" you asked Nikki, peering inside the fridge.
"Second shelf," she said, sticking her head inside the oven to check the roast.
Sunday dinner at the Holland's and Tom's last night. Naturally, he'd want to spend it here with everyone he loved.
You helped Nikki with the cooking. She only wanted you in the kitchen and continuously had to shoo each of the boys away at some point, including Dom. You actually enjoyed having this time with her. You've been surrounded by nothing but men since you moved here. It was nice to have some feminine interaction. And if you felt that way, boy oh boy, you can only imagine how much the General needed it too.
"Mum, I can't find my long lens," Harry started, walking into the kitchen with his camera in his hand.
"Harry, please do get out and clear the table of your iPad and bag," Nikki ordered.
Harry just kind of frowned and did what he was told.
Then Sam came over to the fridge and grabbed a soda, hovering over you while you tossed the salad. He took one of the wooden spoons like he was going to assist you.
"Sam..." you looked at him, your eyebrows raised," I know you're trying to help, but..."
"Get out, Sam," Nikki said, in that pleasant but stern voice of hers that had become her trademark.
You bit your lip, laughing to yourself. She was slowly becoming your hero. Forget Spidey.
Speaking of, Tom waltzed in, arms stretched out to embrace you.
"My two lovely-"
"Get out!" you and Nikki said in unison then started laughing. Tom looked crestfallen and placed his hand over his heart, backing out of the kitchen and bowing on his way out. Dork.
"Was he dropped on his head when he was younger?" you asked still giggling.
"Several times," Nikki smiled, pulling the roast out of the oven.
"I think we're done here," she smiled, setting it on the table and wiping her hands on her apron.
"Okay, I'll get everybody," you said, pulling your own apron off. She placed a hand on your arm to stop you.
"Are you okay?" she asked, studying your face.
You immediately went to 'I'm fine' mode, about to slap that forced smile on your face, then remembered who you were talking to.
"I'm...going to be," you said slowly, even honestly, "I think."
She smiled and patted your arm, "You will be," then walked past you, shouting, "Alright, who's hungry?"
After dinner, everyone retired to the living room, sipping on the rest of the wine, chatting about nothing and everything. You snuggled against Tom in the corner of the sofa, your legs curled up under you and fingers idly playing with his curls. His hand rested on your thigh, patting it, stroking it, sometimes squeezing it as he talked. It was enough to make you impatient for some alone time, but you didn't want to rush him. You weren't the only one he was leaving.
You glanced at the clock on the mantle. It was so much closer now. You only had this night left, then the morning, then...
Then he's gone.
Tom's hand squeezed your thigh a little tighter. Your eyes fluttered over to him and caught his.
They were intense and smoldering and suddenly you didn't care so much about rushing him.
"You've still got packing to do, don't you?" you asked, your fingers in his hair gripping those curls just a little tighter.
"I do indeed," he said taking the hint and draining his glass.
Everyone stood to say their goodbyes and you two headed out the door.
You hadn't even reached the second step before Tom grabbed you and kissed you abruptly and passionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck and let him just devour you. You didn't care if his family saw or the neighbors or that creepy guy across the street with a camera.
Wait...
A flash went off and Tom let go of you, shielding his eyes.
"Shit! Get in the car," he pushed you towards the vehicle and basically shoved you inside, before driving off.
"Sorry," he said.
You looked at him, frowning, "Why are you sorry, Tom? It's nothing you can control."
"People are starting to catch on. They know you exist. Even when I'm gone, I'm afraid they're still going to hound you," he shook his head slowly.
"I'm a big girl, Tom. I can take care of myself," you said and it almost sounded convincing.
"I know you're a big girl, Y/N," he smirked and it didn't sound nearly as sexy as he probably intended.
"How about we don't use 'big' at all when describing me, okay?" you laughed.
"Alright, how about sexy, captivating, alluring..."
"Ooooh, 'alluring'. I like that," you giggled, "Sounds like I'm some siren luring you to your doom with my loins."
"You don't need to lure me, darling," Tom said, his hand suddenly on your upper thigh, squeezing again, "I will come willingly."
"Oh, I know, Tiger," you purred, placing his hand up your shirt, "and if you step on it, we can hurry up and test that theory.
