A Wicked Twist (A Tom Hiddleston Fanfic)

Four Seasons

Hi all,

So here's the next instalment of Tom and Sam's story. Sorry again to have kept you waiting. As I said before I know where I'm going it's just the path is a little unclear.

Hope you like it. Please feel free to vote and comment. Also if anyone likes Bucky/Steve/Sebastian/Chris stories I have written a few one-shots for friends and requests. I'm slowly updating them and adding them to the book Snog Marry Avoid – One shots if you fancy a read, no pressure J

Anyway here you go

Pad x

Warning: Some swearing

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As the landing gear makes contact with the runway I put my foot on the imaginary break to try and slow it down, I know it doesn't work but I do it every time. I chance a glance out of the window and I am blinded momentarily by the sunlight streaming through the window. The plane eventually slows and turns to take us off the runway before coming to a final stop. Why is it as soon as a plane stops people are up as quick as they can? Is it because they just want to get off or is it because they think they can beat everyone else out of the airport? Either way the cabin crew begin the task of trying to get us off the plane by working around eager passengers to open the door. As the door swings back to touch the outer fuselage the heat pours in and hits me with full force, warming me up after the comfortable chill of the cabin. Letting the keen passengers queue up I put my book in my bag before fishing around for my sunglasses, as I'm going to need them. After placing my glasses on my head I lean back in my seat and watch the unfolding activity down on the apron. Once the steps are in place the passengers begin to disembark and I happily let them go before me. There are two very good reasons for this. One is that my case is always the last to arrive on the conveyor belt in baggage reclaim and two; I can follow the other passengers so I know where I am going. When the last few passengers have passed me I stand up and do that awkward bent shuffle out into the aisle, grabbing my bag off the seat as I pass.

"Thank you for flying with us today" the crew member who had given me the blanket earlier in the flight says as I reach the door.

"No thank you, best flight ever" I say genuinely. She replies with a smile as drop my sunglasses before I duck through the door way, even though I don't need to, into the Moroccan air. The heat intensifies as I begin to descend the steps and I am glad that I have my sunglasses. When I reach the bottom step the heat radiating off the concrete is immense and I fleetingly wish to be back in the coolness of the cabin. Clearly I don't really want to be there so I follow the other passengers across the apron and into the welcome coolness of the arrival terminal. Still following the other passengers, a bit like a line of ants, I take in my new surroundings; I've never been in such a beautiful airport. As the line begins to slowdown I notice the universal image of immigration approaching and I join the queue for passport control. As it is with these things, the line moves impeccably slow so I decide to send Tom a quick message.

Landed, just waiting for passport control. This airport is stunning! Xx

I put my phone away and await my turn with the stern looking officials.

Once I'm through I head towards baggage reclaim still blown away by the decor and architecture. As I'm stood by the stationary conveyor belt, waiting for it to churn to life, I notice the young family from before and I catch the mother's eye. We give each other a small nod before she returns her attention back to keeping her boys under control. In what seems like an eternity later the amber light begins flashing to signal that the belt is about to start moving. With a short sound of an alarm the belt slides into operation and a few minutes later the first cases begin to appear on the carousel. As usual my case is one of the last to appear, not that I mind as it means it's not lost, every traveller's nightmare, and the queue for a taxi will be hopefully be a lot shorter. It appears after a large blue case, that has done about four laps already, and I watch it around the carousel until it gets almost with reach. There's that weird moment of adrenaline you get at lilting it off, like if you miss it you've lost some sort of strange game. Handle securely in my hand as it passes I lift it off the belt and stand it upright on the shiny tiled floor. I pull up the handle and begin to trundle it towards customs, which I make through without being stopped, then head out into the arrivals hall. Glancing around I look for an exit, so I can find a taxi rank, and spot many in the glass panelled wall opposite. Pulling my case behind me I head towards the other side of the hall past family waiting for loved ones and a few guys waiting with name cards for certain passengers. As I walk past them I barely glance at their boards as my mind is now focussed on getting to the hotel. About ten paces past a blonde haired guy, probably early twenties, wearing a black suit I pause. Turning and heading back I look at his board again and yep it does say 'Samantha Jackson'.