His English Heart- A Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction

After Infinity

The sound of rain pattered against the windows in the study- the wall of glass becoming a mirror in the dark of the evening. The soft light from the lamps gave the room a cozy feeling, inviting you to curl up with a book.

This is where you find him. You'd just finished putting your daughter, Lucy, to bed, and decided to check on how the script reading was going.

Tom had always taken his scripts into the study, where he could sink into the leather armchairs or sit professionally at his desk. This script was special- something he'd worked toward for years- and the day had finally come.

He was going to read the Infinity War script.

His copy had been hand delivered earlier in the day, the post boy wouldn't even let you sign for it. You had laughed at the secrecy of it all and called for your husband, who came bounding down the stairs with your toddler on his hip. He adjusted his glasses and signed his name, before the young man proffered a thin manila envelope from his bag.

That had been four hours ago, and Tom still hadn't emerged from his study.

He rarely missed putting Lucy to bed, so you knew whatever had him cooped up was important.

"Dear?" You ask as you open the door quietly. A laugh lodges itself in your throat for a moment as you notice he's on the floor, face down in the circular rug.

"Is something wrong?" You continue, stepping in more fully, and closing the door.

"I'm dead," he says, the sound muffled by the rug.

"Again?" You ask, humor evident in your tone. But after your word, you begin to notice that something is wrong here.

Tom sighs, turning his head to the side. His glasses go askew on his face, but he doesn't seem to care.

"Sorry," you whisper. You lower yourself to the floor, and lay down to mirror him.

"He's gone," He says, "For real this time."

"No," you almost gasp. He knew this would happen eventually, most likely- but the character had inherently become a part of him, and you weren't surprised he was saddened by Loki's death.

"It's um-" he gestures to the script he's discarded across the floor, "it's all in there, if you'd like to read it."

Instead you take his hand, the long fingers cold within your own. You kiss them softly, and scoot closer to him as you let your hands drop to the floor.

"How are you feeling?" You ask, staring into his blue eyes.

He shrugs as much as the floor allows, "It was coming."

"Doesn't mean you can't be upset about it," you remind him.

He lets out an almost groan, and shoves his face back into the rug. You watch as his curly reddish hair catches the yellow light. It curls along his neck and around his ears, and there was never any doubt to who Lucy got her hair from.

"I just feel," he sighs again, "I feel tired."

"Okay," you say softly, pulling your hand away to brush into his hair. He seems to relax at the contact. "You know, you'll always be my Loki."

He turns his head back toward you, eyes searching your own. Loki had brought the two of you together in the first place- if it weren't for the character, you'd have never met the man who gave you the world and a beautiful daughter.

"You'll always be my Sigyn," he replies, just as quietly. His hand comes to move away some of the hair that had fallen into your face.

He leans forward and you meet him in a kiss, hand curling back into his hair. He still floors you after all these years.

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I know it's short, please don't kill me, lol. As always, let me know what you think, my lovelies~