You've Only Just Arrived (a Tom Hiddleston fan fiction)

Part 23

A text from Mark wakes you. 

Dropping something off and then coming to pick you up and give you the keys to the new place. 

He probably would have called if he wasn't still so mad at you for staying the extra night at the hotel. He'll get over it – eventually – maybe.

There's also a message from Tom waiting for you: 

Good morning gorgeous. The boys and I ran sprints in the park. It isn't the same without your laughter pushing us on. Let me know when and I'll try to be available for the virtual tour of the new place. 

Back to the long distance relationship routine – it'll be difficult but you vow to make it work.

While lying there in bed you tap out a response:

It'll probably be late for you babe.

You frown at the term of endearment – Tom calls you sweetheart and darling, why does it sound so odd for you to try a pet name with him? You backspace before continuing on.

It'll probably be late for you but consider it a date. Sorry for waking you last night. I hope you were able to get enough sleep – I'll make it up to you, promise.  

The next thing that draws your attention is how hungry you are. It is no wonder – you'd showered and gone right to bed after talking to Tom and had slept through the night until the text from Mark had woken you. Mark's timetable probably gives you exactly enough time to shower and run down to eat something before he gets to the hotel. The moment you step out of the elevator you find Eddie waiting. He probably saw you on the elevator security feed. It's a little strange, but nice to have his company while you eat – and Mark seems pleased by it when he wanders in. Mark doesn't mention anything about having personal security and you have no plans on bringing it up.

There has been a slow trickle of messages arriving on your phone all morning with people talking about the break in at the hotel. How sorry they are, if you need anything, how much they miss you. For the last bit of breakfast Mark kept his head down, reading things on his tablet, rather than chat with you – a clear signal that he's still miffed. He's still doing it in the car so you resist talking to him, but when the tenth friend from the theater back home sends you a text you risk breaking the frosty silence. "Did you happen to call either of my parents to tell them about the break in?"

Mark has your stack of scripts balanced on his lap with his tablet resting atop the pile. He knits his eyebrows together when he look up at you, "No – I thought you would handle that."

You bite your lip, "I fell asleep." Glancing down at your phone you frown, "That's – weird then. How does everyone at the theater already know?"

You hadn't even finished the question and Mark's fingers were tapping out a sequence on his tablet. He huffs under his breath and starts to pull out his phone. "Somebody leaked photos of the mess."

Excellent. Looks of pity and gossip to start your second feature film. Maybe it would have been better to have accepted your award and just gone back home. At least your award hadn't been among the things destroyed – your father already had it, locked away safe and sound. Mark spends the rest of the ride exchanging heated words with various people on the phone.

 It is almost a relief to be out of the car and alone in your apartment. Almost. Being alone in your apartment just amplifies how empty it is, and how little you had left to bring with you. You don't have long to dwell on any of it. You need to be at work to read through the acts that have been set – as well as plan out any training that needs to take place. The only real battle you can see is the training that might need to be required for the car crash scene – and if they'll let you do any of the stunts.