Hello Again (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

September 2013: Room

 “This is a nightmare.” I mumble under my breath, and then take a step away from the small desk.  Tom puts a hand out to me, and gives me a warning look.

“It’ll be fine.” He says softly.  He turns back to the older man at the desk, who is looking through a reservations book.

“So, Mr. Williams, you have one room.  Two beds?” Tom asks, and I watch his shoulders slump slightly.  We are both exhausted, cold and drenched with rain.  My stomach is still angry, the soothing effects of the chocolate having worn off.  And now we’ve stepped onto the set of what must be a terrible romantic comedy, or in our case, a bad dramedy.  One room left. At least we’ve got two beds going for us.  I don’t really mind sharing a room with him, because to be honest, I would sleep on the couch in the common room as long as I was dry, warm and fed.  Still, it’s a little inconvenient considering our current situation.  What can go wrong, will go wrong.

“Yes. We’ve a wedding this weekend, so we’re mostly booked.  Lovely couple they are! Though the bride looks a bit like…have you seen those blind mole rats?” Mr. Williams starts to ramble, in the way that old men often can, and I see Tom shift impatiently on his feet.  He doesn’t want to be rude, but he’s in just as bad a state as I am.

“—three hundred guests! At a small place like this! Some people.” Mr. Williams continues, and Tom opens his mouth to interrupt him, but he then stops and gets back to the subject of our room. “The room we have is one we usually reserve for a family with children.  It’s two twin beds.  I’m afraid that’s all we have.” Mr. Williams says apologetically, holding up his hands. Tom nods, and glances at me over his shoulder.  I shrug.  At least it’s two beds. It’ll be better than spending the night cold and damp in the car.

“Thank you. That’ll do.  Is there anywhere nearby we can get dinner?” Tom asks, and my resolve melts a little, so happy that he’s taken charge so I can play my part as “lump in the corner”.  I pray that there is somewhere we can get something, anything to eat.  I’d settle for an old shoe if I could chew it.

“Well, The Cottage is closed on Sundays and that’s about all there is around here.  But I can have the missus whip you up something.  Bring it up to your room?” Mr. Williams offers, and I nearly run forward and kiss him with happiness.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” I pipe up, grabbing my bags off the floor, suddenly feeling relieved.

“Sure. Your room is first right at the top of the stairs.” He hands Tom an old key, and gives us both a quick smile.  Tom nods, thanks him and then turns and looks at me with a raised eyebrow.  I notice the dark smudges under his eyes, the wary look on his face, and I can tell he’s moments away from collapsing.  I give him a tiny smile, and I reach forward and squeeze his arm quickly.  Tom turns and leads the way up the old, rather ornate staircase.  I follow closely behind at his heels, sighing softly.

“Are you alright?” He turns and looks at me as we get to the top of the stairs.  I nod, feeling bone weary.

“Tired. Cold. Hungry.” I manage.  Tom nods, and reaches down, taking the bags from my hands. 

“Alright, well let’s get you settled in then.” He says softly, and then walks to the closed door to our room.  When he opens it, we step inside, and I shut the door behind us. 

Despite everything, the room is nice.  More than nice.  It’s cozy, and comfortable.  Mr. Williams hadn’t been lying, though.  There are two twin beds, separated by a small nightstand.  Thick, pillowy comforters lie on top of each bed, and so despite the fact that they are small, they look rather heavenly.  A large, curtained window covers most of one wall, and I can hear the rain beating steadily against it.  Tom turns on a lamp, and the room is aglow with warm light.  There’s a wood backed chair in the corner, a small dresser, and a door to the bathroom.