Hello Again (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

December 2010: The Mysterious Stripper

I burrow deep under the covers, luxuriating in the warm little cocoon I've made. The house is wonderfully quiet, the soft lull of the harbor outside the only noises. I'm not sure what woke me up. Then, there is a light tapping on my door. Santos? Poking my head out from under the covers, I blink as the early morning light filters softly through the gauzy drapes.

"Come in." I say softly, my voice a bit gravely. My head feels fuzzy, and I'm guessing the time change is still playing with me. The door opens a few inches slowly, and then a dark head slips in. Tom.

"Hi. Can I come in?" He asks, looking shy as he holds the door open just enough for his head to fit inside. I start to sit up, before remembering I'm only wearing a tank top and underwear. I freeze, holding the comforter to my chest.

"Um, give me two seconds?" I ask quietly. Tom nods and then disappears, closing the door silently behind him. I slide out of bed, the colder air hitting my bare legs. Quickly riffling through my luggage, I pull on a pair of yoga pants. I grab the best, most padded push up bra I own and I quickly jam my arms through the straps, then shimmy back into my tank top. Sure, the man has already seen me naked. Sure, he has a girlfriend and most likely hates that I exist. At least the girls can look good. I check my reflection in mirror by the dresser, trying my best to get that sexy "just woken" tousled look. It is a little bit more "I'm a restless sleeper" than sex kitten, but I work with what I've got. I pull on a lightweight zippered hoodie, and then jump back onto the bed, sitting up and cross legged on the comforter.

"Okay." I call out. The door opens again, slowly, and Tom slips inside, shutting it softly behind him. Why is he here? It's strange. More than strange, but I'm intrigued. I'm also surprised to see he's already dressed for the day in jeans and a dark navy sweater. He looks good. Comfortable, down to earth. He has two mugs in his hand and he hands me one as he hesitates at the edge of the bed, then sits down on the chair a few feet away.

"Good morning." He says softly. His dark hair looks freshly washed, and is a bit messy around his face. He looks so different from what I remember, but still the same somehow.

"Good morning." I mimic, holding the warm mug in my hands. He's made me tea. The man has made me tea. I look down and I can see it's light caramel color. Tea with milk.

"I don't know how you like your tea, so I made it for you how I make mine." He says. His voice is gentle, calm and soothing. Strange.

"This is good. Thank you." I nod, and lift the cup to my mouth. Tom watches me, his blue eyes following my movements. The tea is hot, but not scalding. It's sweet and milky, and perfectly soothing.

"How do you normally take it?" He asks, looking genuinely interested.

"Usually just some sugar, but I like this." I nod, lifting up the mug. This is weird. Very weird. Having this strange little conversation with him.

"Good. Great." He sits forward, leaning his forearms on his knees. We're both quiet for a moment, just sort of sitting across from each other, not talking. I take another sip and then stretch my legs out in front of me.

"Tom?" I say gently, and he looks up. "Did you need something? Or want to talk about something?" I ask, tilting my head slightly. I can feel my pulse in my throat. He licks his lips, nodding.

"Yes. Listen. Gracie." He sets his mug down, and I notice that he likes to talk with his hands. "I wanted to apologize. I wanted to apologize for last night at dinner." I could not be more surprised than if he told me his name was actually Reginald Archibald Theodore the 4th.

"Oh?" I breathe.

"Yes. The truth is, I was really, very...very shocked to see you yesterday. I'm...pleased to see you-" He starts, and I barely hide my sarcastic smile. I'm sure he's so pleased to see a vacation fling. "No, I really am. I was just surprised, and...I was unforgivably rude at dinner." He sighs and then sits up, his eyes searching my face.