#imagine Tom isn’t usually forgetful. Honestly, it’s rather rare to find him forgetting things, whether it’d be birthdays or anniversaries or car keys or even turning off the stove at home or taking out the trash. But as he shakes you nervously from the cot inside the exceedingly large tour bus, you don’t even have to peak an eye open to tell he’s forgotten something.
It’s a feeling you get in the pit of your stomach, and you can’t explain quite how you know, but you do.
“What did you do?” You ask with sleep still coating you voice. You had meant to take a little catnap until the bus arrived to the hotel but you must have fallen asleep.
“Don’t be mad – I just didn’t want to wake you,” He admits looking bashful. You scoot aside in the small space, patting beside you so he can climb in. You can tell this will be quite long, and god were you correct. A pack of sweets you had in your jacket pocket and about an hour later, he had finished telling you how he had forgotten to do something fairly important for one of the other lads and in return they trapped you both in the bus until morning.
You frown, looking at him, “No fair, I didn’t do anything – this is all your fault…”
He grimaces slightly, but you can tell his heart isn’t really in it because fuck he was utterly glad that he wasn’t sat in that cot alone. That he’s spending his little punishment with someone whose company he’s very keen to. “Sorry love, wrong place, wrong time?”
You roll your eyes, stretching lightly and trying your best not to hurt him during the process with your given limited space.
“So what are we going to do?”
Its not long after that you two are sat in a little booth with a small table between you two with various cards in your hands.
“Bullshit,” You cry out. “You’ve said ‘go fish’ ten times already; there is absolutely no way you don’t have a three!”
He looks taken aback with your out burst, so slowly he turns his cards to show you that he in fact did not have a three.
You sigh, placing your head on the table, “Sorry,” you mumble. “It’s just…this is boring…” You lift your head up to look at him, “we should do something more fun, more… active…something that’ll get our hearts racing so we’d fall asleep easily and by the time we’re up, we’d be set free from our captive…” you drum your fingers against the table and he looks about ready to offer a suggestion, but you open your mouth before him, “Oh! We can play Rockband!”
He tilts his head to the side, watching you attempt to set it up, “Not quite what I had in mind…”
It proves to be rather hard to move around in the tour bus with two plastic guitars, but you both manage to make it work for a bit – that is until the third or fourth time you’ve crashed into each other, missing the keys every so often with in the first ten minutes.
“Well, this sucks,” you grumble, placing the guitar on a seat. He follows your lead before resting his fairly warm hands on your shoulders and leading you towards the back. You frown a bit, “Where are you taking me?”
He chuckles, sending breaths of warm air against your neck, and you jump slightly not realising just how close behind he actually is. “I have a better idea. Something definitely more fun, active and heart-pumping,” he responds, leading you to the cot you were earlier sleeping in. You bite you lips facing him, trying to suppress a smile. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him forwards as you fall back into the mattress.
