Hello Again (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

December 2010: English Seaside Insanity

A/N: Please excuse any geographical errors. I am doing my best, but I suck at it, so sorry for any issues with that. Google can only help me out so much. Thanks for reading! And thanks for friends on FB that have given me tips and hints :)

"I'm glad you came." Santos nudges me with his knee as we board the Sandbanks Ferry. It's December 23rd, and a breezy, somewhat balmy 52 degrees in the small south western English town. At least, it feels balmy compared to the 22 degrees we left back in New York.

"Are you sure it's okay? I don't want to crash the party." I look at him nervously, as Santos wraps his pea coat around his slender frame, and pulls a knit hat down over his dark hair.

"Yes, lovey. I'm always told to bring a guest. And Emily's mom is like Mother Theresa. She takes everyone in." He slings an arm around my shoulders and pulls me against him. Two days ago, he'd found me in my apartment staring blankly at the wall. My Aunt Tara had just called me to tell me that I wasn't invited to Christmas this year because there simply wasn't enough room. My Uncle Danny was having all his nieces and nephews over. I shouldn't have been surprised, I really shouldn't have. But for some reason I was. And I was strangely hurt. It's weird, no matter how much you tell yourself someone can't hurt you anymore...some things are always just a sore spot. My family happens to be a very sore spot. I haven't heard from my mother in months. I'm not sure she's even in New York still. And I don't really care to know where my dad is.

And so when Santos came barging in, arms full of presents he wanted to wrap in my apartment (using my wrapping paper, of course), and just oozing of Christmas cheer, my natural reaction was to burst into tears.

"It feels strange to go to someone's house that I've never met for Christmas." I sigh and sit back against the seat, trying to relax. The flight had been long, and now we have a bit more traveling to do until we got to Emily's family's home.

"True, but do you even really know your Aunt and Uncle that well? Besides, you know Emily. And Christmas as adults isn't quite the same as Christmas as kids, right? Though Christmas as kids was always shit too." He cackles, but I can see the waning sadness in his eyes. We both get this way around holidays. A little sad, a little too dark. "Emily's family is so great. They do this every year. Their house is practically an estate- it's huge. They invite tons of friends and family over for a week long party. I mean, it's all rather tame and innocent-no one's doing lines in the bathroom. But it's so much fun. You feel like you're part of a real family." Santos grins, and then we both look at each other for a minute, our eyes locking. I see in him exactly how I feel-that ever constant search for a "real family". I push against his shoulder and look away.

"Thanks for bringing me along, then. And for being my sugar daddy." I brush roughly at my watery eyes, doing it quickly before Santos can say something about it, and make me actually start to cry.

"Anytime, babe. At least the money is good for something." He mumbles, and looks out the window. If there is any perk to Santos' situation, it's that his parent's divorce has permanently given each of them "bad parent" complexes. His mother is a lawyer at a top firm in Connecticut. His father comes from a long line of surgeons in upstate New York. In other words, loaded. I occasionally call him a "trust fund baby", because he's honestly set for life. His parents throw money at him every chance they can. Though he usually accepts the money, storing it away, or occasionally splurging on a trip, he is very generous with it, and still continues working hard at becoming an architect.

The funny thing is, in an attempt to not be bad parents, it's sort of exactly what they've done. Money doesn't make up for being completely absent. But on that note, I'd like to thank Mr Romero for funding this impromptu trip.