His English Heart- A Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction

Baseball

The very first baseball game that you ever attended was in the Summer following the release of The Avengers. In hindsight, you can’t remember who played, who won, or if you had good seats. Which is hilarious, because it was only a month and a half ago.

You went with Tom, because he was in town and had an extra ticket. No way you were going to turn down any amount of time you could have with him, even though you didn’t know the first thing about baseball. Your brother, Greg, had been a big baseball fan (and still was, if you remembered correctly) but none of that had rubbed off on you over the years. You still hated sports.

Unless you were playing them. With family and friends, and everyone knew that you stunk at them.

Your plan was to wing it at the game, because there was really no reason to try and impress Tom. You’d learned long ago that you didn’t need to be anyone but yourself with him. This fact just added to the long list of reasons why you’d decided that you had actually fallen in love with him.

At first, you thought it’d be a fleeting crush. Something that would fade with time and being apart. When, in all actuality, not seeing him for weeks and months on end had only strengthened that bond. Whether he knew it was there or not.

Now you were in too deep. You saw no light at the end of the tunnel. No reprieve from this tall shadow you’d been placed in. It was all Tom. Everything.

You thought that he might know about your feelings. Sometimes he let on like he did, but he never really did anything about it, so you weren’t sure. And you didn’t know if you wished he did know or not.

Tonight, though, you both were just out to have a good time. He picked you up at six, and you went out to dinner. It was quiet in the restaurant, but soon enough your guffawing laughter and his “Ehehehe’s” were filling the place up. More than once you were both afraid you’d be kicked out.

It was just so easy with him. You could speak freely, and he didn’t seem to judge. He was funny, and could make you laugh just by lifting one eyebrow at the appropriate time.

“I’ll have the chicken alfredo,” eyebrow up, giving you this weird, hungry look while handing the menu to the waiter. It was almost impossible to continue with your order because you were giggling so hard.

“Love? Do you want anything?” He asks, and you pry your eyes away from his hands which are setting his cup of Coca Cola in the floor. At the game, you’d been seated toward the field, and according to Tom, they were very good seats. It was true; you could see everything from here.

Tom had been talking about the guy walking around with the traveling snack bar. Cotton candy, peanuts, popcorn. How you were able to eat after dinner was beyond you, but that cotton candy just looked too good.

“Cotton Candy?” You say, not sure if it’s a question or an answer.

He nods, that ridiculous cap sliding down his forehead a bit. He’d insisted on a disguise before coming in, afraid that he’d be bombarded with fans wanting autographs. And it wasn’t that he didn’t want to give any (because he did), he just didn’t want to ruin his night with you.

At least, that’s what he said. Whether it was true…

His version of a disguise was a baseball cap, glasses, and a leather jacket. Which, really, wasn’t even a disguise. But it had gotten us so far without any problems.

Tom had said it was the third quarter? Or… no. Second down? You don’t know, and don’t particularly care, but all you knew was that people were talking more because the players were switching places on the field.