Darling (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

9: seaglass, sticky hands, a situation

Tom groaned, picking up Gemma, heaving her onto his shoulders as she immediately stuck her sticky, melted ice cream hands into his hair.  It was a surprisingly mild day, and he was thankful for it.  In past years, some 4th of Julys were so swelteringly hot and humid that it felt more like swimming, while watching the parades and fireworks.  People would move slow, in no rush to cause more heat or make themselves sweat more.

  It was still a hot day—the temperature somewhere around the mid eighties, but the humidity was low, and there was a nice breeze coming off the ocean.   The sun was beginning to lower now, bringing even more relief from the glaring rays. Tom yanked down his tshirt, feeling it slide up as Gemma wiggled around on his shoulders.  Her small, sandaled feet tapped gently on his chest, moving to their own rhythm. 

“Better?” He asked, eyes looking up.  She let out a contented sigh, and he felt a warm, sticky hand wrap around his forehead.

“I can see everything.” She said, elated.  Tom chuckled to himself, marveling at her wonder.  Though at times exasperating and always exhausting, he loved her awe and admiration of everything.  Things were still new and surprising through Gemma’s eyes.  It was a gift she inadvertently gave him every day.

“Easy on the hair, darling.” He felt her tug, as if holding onto the mane of a horse, steering him where she wanted to go. 

“When are fireworks? I want to watch fireworks.” Gemma asked, and Tom shifted her weight on his shoulders. 

“Soon. In like half an hour. It needs to get darker.” He glanced back toward the center of town.  They’d light the fireworks off near the pier, on the beach.  He wasn’t worried about getting a ‘good spot’, as farther away was actually better for them.  Gemma was excited now, but there was sometimes tears when things got too loud.

“I can see everyone! I can see Billie, Tom! Go say Hi to Billie!” She started moving excitedly, squeezing her legs around his neck and smacking him unceremoniously on the top of the head.  Tom reached up and grabbed both of her tiny, flailing hands, calming her.  He hadn’t seen or spoken to Billie since running into her at the college.  It had been a strange, but not unpleasant surprise.  He liked the idea that Billie was spending her time with other musicians—students especially.  He had a feeling it might help her get back on her feet, or at least a better grounding of things. It wasn’t her normal scene, but maybe that’s what she needed.  He’d talked to Sam earlier that week, during one of their runs, and Sam had admitted he and Rachel were worried that Billie was just totally lost.

“Okay, which way, love?” Tom started jerking from one direction to the other, pulling Gemma’s arms out in front of her like some sort of compass point.  She laughed, babbling incoherently through her belly giggles.

“That way!” She said finally, tapping him on the left shoulder and pointing just past his ear. Tom turned, his eyes searching the crowd.  He saw her hair first, as he often did. He was surprised Gemma recognized her, but she wasn’t all that easy to miss.  She had on a baseball hat, a half hearted attempt to conceal her identity, he guessed.  Her hair was in a thick braid down her back, a white blond plait, messy and wild.  She had on a tiny, strapless dress, made out of some light printed cotton material. It nipped in at her small waist, and flowed out, stopping just above her knees.  At the moment, the breeze pushed it against her legs, molding it gently to the curves of her body, the v between her legs. 

Tom felt the quick kick in his gut.  It wasn’t a new sensation, but it was one that hadn’t been around much until lately. 

He took a faltering step forward.

“Do you see her? She’s there! Billie!” Gemma started screeching.  She had decided to call her ‘Billie’ instead of ‘Baby’ a few nights ago, after seeing another one of her music videos on the telly.  They had talked about it during bedtime—a time when they often had their most serious conversations.  Or the most serious you could get with a five year old (which to Tom’s surprise, could sometimes be rather serious).  Gemma had wanted to know in more depth why Billie had two names.  Tom had simply said that ‘Baby’ was her work name, and ‘Billie’ was the name her friends and family called her.  Gemma, having only met her once, nodded solemnly and said she’d call her Billie because she hoped they would be “best friends or maybe sisters” one day.  Tom had to then go into a long, probably overly long, diatribe on why Billie Darling would never, ever, ever be Gemma’s sister.  But, best friend, that could be a possibility.