His English Heart- A Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction

Wrapped

Filming ends soon. Very, very soon, and the day has snuck up on you so quickly that it's started to get hard to keep breathing. All of these wonderful, beautiful, exciting people will not be part of your life everyday anymore. The thought threatens to crush your heart again for the second time that morning, while applying Tom's mascara.

Turning around to get the eyeliner, you peek a glance at yourself in the vanity mirror. Red-rimmed eyes aren't something desirable. But they're there, nonetheless. You blink a few times to stop their burning, which doesn't help much.

"Look up," you tell Tom, turning around with the liquid pen. He does as he's told.

He'd caught on to your dark mood when he walked in this morning. A few jokes were made, a couple cheery sentences, a hug. It all just reminded you of what you were losing. Not what you had.

Your steady hand drags the pen across the bottom lid of his eye. You can't help but want to stare at their color sometimes, just to memorize it, so you can keep it with you when he moves on.

Because he will move on. Without you. Without Cora. Without anyone but himself. Your throat closes up at the thought of not seeing him everyday. Not hearing his voice, or his laugh, or those silly jokes that he thinks are funny (that you don't understand because he uses too much British slang). Not being able to mess with that beautiful head of hair, or play pranks anymore. There won't be anymore outings for lunch or dinner just to talk about stuff you both liked. He'd be gone.

Finishing his eyeliner, you step back and sniff your nose, hoping that he doesn't see through the mask you'd put on this morning.

"Done?" He asks, sitting up and giving a grin that melts your heart a little.

You nod, not trusting your voice to stay steady, but Tom sees right through you. He stands, and comes forward and holds out his arms, waiting for the hug.

"Oh my love," he whispers, holding you tightly to him, one hand on the back of your head, burying your face in his chest. The other arm wraps around your shoulders, pressing you against him.

A tear escapes and is absorbed into his button up shirt. Your arms are wrapped around his middle, never wanting to let go. Right now, he's that friend that you've always needed, but never found.

"This isn't the end, love," he says for the second time that day, "We'll still see each other."

You don't reply. His heart is beating loudly in his chest, and you hear it as clearly as a siren.

"Jo?" He lifts your head so he can look you in the eye, "Are you crying?"

"No," you reply weakly, but a lone tear betrays you and falls down your cheek.

His thumb comes to wipe it away, "It's okay to cry."

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Then, as quick as the Flash, the final day. After this, The "Avengers" is a wrap for filming and you'll no longer be required. As you drive into work you realize it'll be the last time to say hi to Robert Downey Jr and get a reply because he knows you. It'll be the last time to give Chris Evans a "bro fist." The last time Jeremy Renner will look you up and down and say that you're the prettiest bell at the ball in that cheesy, fake, country accent.

So your pep talk consists of a halfway garbled and halfway understandable sob: You do this everyday. No need to be sad. This isn't the end. We'll still see each other.

But you can't make yourself believe it.

You skip the breakfast tent. Check your supplies. Chat in the group of people who all are in the same mood you are. Receive and give dozens of hugs. Hold back more tears. And get to work.

Tom comes in in a lot better mood than you. His hands behind his back, and a sad smile on his face.

"Good morning, love," his English accent rolls over you, "Happy last day of filming."

Suddenly you're afraid that this will be the last time you hear his voice. Which is absurd, but frightens you nonetheless.

"Morning," you give him a watery smile, "How are you?"

He ignores the question, instead stepping closer to you and bending down to look you in the eyes, "What is wrong with my Joanna today?"

You laugh and smile, wiping away a renegade tear, "This is the end of the road, my friend."

"No it's not!"He looks appalled, "It's only the very beginning."

You cross your arms and sniffle, "Easy for you to say. They can't replace the actor who plays Loki, but they can replace the make-up artist for him."

"I'm surprised," he exhales, "You aren't usually this dramatic. Which, you are dramatic. Just not this dramatic. And never ever say that you could be replaced."

His eyes take a more stern set, "Never. You can't ever be replaced to me."

This feeling in the pit of your stomach is stronger than it's ever been before. He's so, accepting. Understanding. It makes you feel important and appreciated.

When you don't make a move to say anything in reply, he continues, "I got you something."

"You didn't have to do that!" You exclaim while quickly wiping the tears that fall down your cheek. Luckily, your eyes aren't puffy and red like they had been last week.

"Oh, but I wanted to."

Tom's smiling like the loon he is as a small golden paper wrapped box comes into view. It fits in his palm and you take it when he offers.

"You really didn't have to do this," you chide, looking into his eyes.

His smile softens and he whispers, "Open it."

You unwrap the golden paper to find a little velvet jewelry box. You feel a small blush rise to your cheeks before you work up enough courage to continue. Opening it slowly, you see the glimmer of red and blue and gold. A little golden heart with the United Kingdom's flag sits on a gold chain.

You hear him talking as your staring at it. You don't look up at him, but you know he's staring at you just as intently as you are with his gift.

"You're always afraid that you'll never see me again," he smiles sadly, "I'm always around. Every time you see that, or wear it, you'll think of your old pal Tom and you'll call me."

Another tear falls down your cheek and he reaches up to wipe it away. Before he's able to end the conversation, you envelope him in a hug, catching him by surprise. Your arms wrap around his middle again, the side of your face pressed into his chest. He returns it gladly, resting his head on top of yours.

He's so warm, and comfortable and sweet. He always manages to smell amazing. His heart is as gorgeous as gold. And now, you've got a beautiful reminder of all of that through this tiny gift.

You know what you're saying when you say it. It doesn't catch you by surprise.

"I love you."

You feel his chuckle resonate through his body; he plants a kiss on top of your head, "And I love you."

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