eloped.

Alternate Scene - Post Skinny Dip *

♡

You spend about half an hour at the beach, lying there on your backs, each on your own towel. Tom is wearing his t-shirt and his trunks whereas you're naked underneath your fluffy robe. Apparently, you didn't bring an extra set of clothes even though Tom advised you to, saying something about not wanting to leave that tepid ocean smell on them. Which he thinks is bullshit but lets it slide anyway.

You lay there discussing the sky and the shape of the clouds. Your arms gesture wildly, and Tom's eyes focus entirely on how much of your chest is showing through the robe, unable to decide whether he wants to cover it up or sneak his hand inside.

Then you ask him whether you should make flower crowns for the wedding, and the moment's gone. You ask him whether you'd need a ring bearer or not, how fast he wants to get married back home, in London, and all sorts of wedding talk that has him soaring up into outer space. And the truth is that Tom only even thinks about leaving the beach and your conversation because you suggest it after he noticed Harry's fourth missed call.

"You're not going to call him back?" you ask, turning your head to him and using your hand to keep the sun away from your eyes.

"Not yet," Tom says, tracing an invisible pattern on your raised arm. You smile at him and kiss him, climbing up on top of his chest. Which is when Tom decides on what he wants to do with the robe. He sneaks his hand past the fabric on top and caresses down your chest, around your side, pulling you to him until you break it off to inhale.

"Let's go back," you suggest, but your voice is hoarse and laden with desire.

"Yeah."

But if it was up to him, he would have stayed there for hours and unofficially married you on the spot by sunset.

There's an outer gate connecting the beach to the hotel's pool area, an easy access so the guests can come in and out using their key cards. Tom does the honors and holds it open for you, slipping the card inside the front pocket of his own robe. His shorts are still a little wet, so it's only polite to have used the robe to dry whatever he could.

Crossing the pool area with his hand on your lower back, Tom makes a quick mental note to come back down later on, after all the commotion and emotion of your first wedding day.

It's today. And it will happen soon.

Tom's eyes glance down at your finger and he wonders what it will be like with a silver ring on it. And then if you'd want a regular gold band or something more exotic like titanium or even obsidian. That would be kind of cool.

His thought drifts away when you approach the lifts area. Especially when your hand sneaks up Tom's robe. From the bottom up, under the fabric. Just like that. Playfully, but also sort of shamelessly. Chuckling to yourself.

"Love this bum," you whisper, repeating what you said out in the ocean.

"Save it for when we're alone," Tom requests, and you acquiesce. Your hand disappears from his skin and you're polite and composed as ever when a couple comes out and you both take their place inside.

"We're alone now."

That's when Tom understands, for the umpteenth time, that he needs to be more specific with his wording, but he doesn't say anything right now. He does notice how your robe is falling off one shoulder, but he can't straighten it because you move too fast.

You grasp Tom's face with both hands and pull him to you, pouty lips pressed to his in the same second. The bathrobe around you would have fallen to the floor if it weren't for Tom's reflexes kicking in and wrapping it up around you with his arm, but it does reveal a lot more than it should because the knot at the front has come undone. Or had Tom not tightened it properly before?