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

Part 57

They seem to be getting on well enough so you step away to try to talk your way back onto set this weekend and leave Tom alone in your dressing room with your father. They're talking about the niche of set design and how your father used to dabble back when you were in high school. It shouldn't take too long to talk your way back onto the schedule. You just need to find someone with the power to make that call... Working today is a bust. There's no hope even trying to manage that miracle.

After being scolded for showing up today - it seems no one fell for the 'showing Dad around' ruse - you receive the bad news. Well, it's bad news in your mind, anyway. They've already figured out the first half of the following work week in terms of shooting schedule. Even considering that, you hold out hope that there will be some magical sequence of words that will make everything start to go your way.

Despite your most persuasive arguments the answer is no.

No. Go home. Rest.

Richard is delighted. You're silently cursing. They're giving you what amounts to an entire week off. Period. Pending a sit-down with a therapist when, exactly, you'll be allowed back is still up in the air. The studio is considering pushing back any scenes you may be involved in to give you 'more time to cope'. You agree to set up an appointment to be immediately after your father leaves, hoping that with assurances from a professional the studio will allow you back without holding you to the full week of time away from the set.

You want to get back to work soonest, damnit.

Though internally you're an absolute mess, you plaster on a smile and do your best to keep the tempest hidden. The smile does nothing to dispel the grouchy mood you've fallen into but you outwardly appear at ease. Richard talks amiably about coordinating your just-this-side-of-mandatory appointment with the rest of the crew currently hunkered down at your place. The tiny environment was not meant to house so many. Thankfully you and Tom do manage some breathing room every once in a while.

The attempt to talk your way back from your 'break' lasted longer than you anticipated it would thanks to your persistence. Oops. And Richard had promised your father a short trip to the lot. It's nearly time for lunch.

You find Tom and your father still in your dressing room - and they now have moved on from shop talk, finding what common ground they may have in other areas of their lives. Your smile twitches in place. Poor Tom. You've inadvertently shoved your father off on him.

Richard takes advantage of the pause in motion to consult his phone. "If we're doing dinner out tonight we should go ahead and make reservations."

"Dinner out?" You're hesitant of the concept. Why does it feel like it's only you that is about to fall apart at the seams? But your father is here, and - "Well Dad, anything special you'd like to try while you're here?"

"I've heard great things about this place we passed on the drive here. Supposedly the sauce is mouthwatering and the ribs melt right off the-"

Tom interrupts, making a face and massaging at his neck with his good hand, "Er, actually..." He bites at his cheek and looks up to meet your gaze. It feels like you're smacked across the face with the wave of guilt you read in his expression.

Oh. The food that Tom had picked up for dinner that day. He'd gone to get ribs and hadn't been there... and there goes your intention of suggesting take out. What is a solution that will work for all of you? "Maybe we can cook something?"

Richard snorts and looks up from his phone, "Kitchen is half destroyed."

"Just need access to the oven... We can push the table out into the living room." You're not going to give up easily.