Hello Again (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

February 2012: Notes

A/N: Short chap. More to come soon! Thanks for all the feedback.  You guys are the best.

Santos sits with a thud, and throws his iPhone down on the little table in front of us.

“Hello to you too.” I say, watching him as he sheds his coat, scarf and beanie.  I somehow convinced him to come in to New York for the weekend, and he’s just arrived from DC.  It’s been snowing since the weekend, and I’m shocked he made it into the city in decent time.

“Fuck fucking New York.” He raises an eyebrow at me and sighs, then orders a latte from our waiter, who has been lurking at the side of the table. 

“Blasphemy.  Don’t talk shit about New York.” I say, crossing one leg over another and shaking my head disapprovingly. The café is one of our favorites.  It’s nestled between two Starbucks, but the coffee is infinitely better, and they serve alcohol.  One of Santos’ requirements.

“You’re right.  New York is the best.” He says blandly, reaching across the table and breaking off half of my chocolate chip scone.  He chews it while staring at me, and then eats the other half as well in two bites.

“Have you been busy?” I ask, taking a sip of my tea.  Santos nods and brushes crumbs from the front of his shirt.

“Very busy.  And you did not answer my call last weekend.” Santos answers immediately with mock anger.  Last weekend was Valentine’s Day weekend.  I was a bit preoccupied. 

“I didn’t see you called until it was really late.  I was busy.  You didn’t answer my call earlier that day.”

“I was too busy screwing the brains outta Cillian.” He laughs and then groans. “No, actually, we went to the symphony and then had drinks and dinner downtown. So it was a busy night.” He smiles at me, and I can see how happy he is.  I smile, feeling instantly at ease.  At least one of our lives is making sense.  He’s been dating Cillian rather seriously, and it seems to be going well.  I feel a tug in my chest.  I miss Santos dearly, since we don’t see each other nearly enough lately.  The city seems empty without him.

“I’m glad.” I say softly, watching as the waiter comes back with Santos’ drink.  Santos thanks him, and then orders a few more scones.

“Did you do anything? Make out with any randos?” He asks.  I bite my lip, staring blankly out the window. 

“Well. I don’t know how random he was.” I sigh, feeling a strange weight on my chest.

“What?!” He surges forward, bumping into the tiny table and nearly spilling our drinks.

“Down, boy.” I laugh.  “It was Tom. He texted me. He was in just for that night.” I shift my weight, feeling uneasy again.

“Oh my god. It’s on. It’s back on,” Santos says, his voice breathless and at a whisper level.  He sounds mystified as if I’ve just told him a legend of a mystical animal or a story about magic beans that he truly, whole heartedly believes. 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” I warn.

“So what happened?” Santos asks, leaning forward.  “Details. What was he wearing? What were you wearing? Did you try that position I told you about? The happy philanthropist?” He asks, and I nearly spit out my tea.

“Santos.”I look away, shaking my head as I laugh.  Santos frowns and throws his hands up.

“Gracie. Where did the nice man touch you?” He asks, saying each word with extra emphasis.  I shoot him a look and then we both laugh.  His terrible, wonderful sense of humor.