You've Only Just Arrived (a Tom Hiddleston fan fiction)

Part 3

You surprised yourself with the authoritative tone with which you told Tom to sit and wait at your desk. He looked a bit dazed from the kiss himself. If he hadn't sidestepped towards the desk chair you're almost positive the plans for the night would have been scrapped in favor of other adventures.

With your hairdryer buzzing uselessly at the ceiling you lean back and peek out the door of the bathroom to make sure of Tom's whereabouts and ask what time it is. He has busied himself reading more of the Jack & Emily script.

"Hey Tom what ti.... I would have thought you'd be tired of that by now." Though you tried not to pester him with details about the audition it came up more than once in your phone conversations.

Tom furrows his eyebrows as he looks up at you. "It's easier to have a discussion regarding a thing when you're more familiar with it. From the way you were talking yesterday this is becoming one of your passions..." His hands still hold open the script pages but he never removes his eyes from you. "And I want to know about every thing that excites you."

All the phone calls had made you able to relax a bit more around him, but the thrilling greeting followed by the heat you're feeling from a mere look when he is seated a dozen paces away... He has you fixed to the spot without moving from the chair. You are glad for the rouge that you've applied though it certainly isn't going to completely cover the fantastic flush he is now causing.

Your reply is delayed by your short nervous laughter, "Are we still talking about the script?" Tom laughs and flicks his eyes to the forgotten hairdryer still whirring away in your hand. "Right. Dinner. Drinks. And if time permits, dancing." You shake your head and lean back into the bathroom.

Once safely in the bathroom and staring at yourself in the mirror you roll your eyes and mouth silently: Are we still talking about the script? Of all the replies... You glare at your reflection while you finish drying your hair. Curse having long hair - perhaps they'll ask that you cut it for the role of Emily.

You scoop up the bracelet from your mother before reemerging from the bathroom. Tom still sits at the desk reading the script but as you approach him he turns you give you his full attention. You are determined to try to get as much a rise out of him as he seems able to easily get from you. Turnabout is fair play after all. You add a little extra swing to your step to get the dress to flow a little bit - an obvious ploy but you work with what you have. You halt your advance so that you are standing between his splayed legs, just touching the inside of one of his knees with the side of your leg. He had rested his hand atop his thigh but he lifts it to hover in the air behind your back briefly before he reaches up to ruffle his fingers through his hair. The movements draw your attention to his neck where you can see the hints of a flush developing.

You extend your hand palm up, showing him your bracelet as though that was the motive behind your close proximity. "The clasp is a pain one handed," you explain.

From his seated position the roles are now reversed - it is Tom who has to tilt his head up to meet your eyes. It is ever so tempting to slip into a character, any character, and let that character's confidence rule you but you are determined to be your nervous, cautious, thoroughly smitten self. Tom carefully retrieves the bracelet from your hand and circles the delicate chain around your wrist. After closing the clasp he turns your hand and brushes your knuckles against his lips before muttering into them, "There now. Ready?"

Removing your fingers from his grasp and before you can second guess yourself you lean over and lightly kiss him. Leaning back again you shake your head and point down at your bare feet. You know exactly which shoes you're going to wear - the stilettos you wore the night you met Tom. You want the height bonus again so you won't have to stand on tiptoe to reach those lips all night.