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

Part 54

Smudges of crime scene powder still mar the inside of the doorframe, though it is clear someone has been through the place trying to clean up in preparation for your arrival. Furniture has been rearranged to ease cleanup. You’d half expected the takeout cartons and food within to still be splattered across the floor. Someone has been hard at work on the carpet, though the stain of red sauce from the ribs is still visible – or perhaps that’s a phantom stain that your brain is forcing.

You pause to examine the spot further and your eyes start to water. It would be foolish to attribute it solely to the smell the solvent lingering in the air. No, this is still anger, fear, among a mixture of other things, over the whole scenario. Someone had been stalking you. Someone had violated the place you had come to call home.

Your nose burns a bit. The fumes are rather strong – had John or Richard managed to find time to spray the area before heading to the hospital, or perhaps hired a cleaner, or – Bruce steps from the kitchen holding a scrub brush and wearing the apron that Matt had given you for your birthday reading – It’s not burnt, it’s crispy! – Matt’s idea of a joke. No wonder John and Richard hadn’t immediately scoured the place or forced you and Tom to remain outside while inspecting the house. 

“You know,” he says, holding the brush to the side and giving everyone a wide grin, “when I was hired as a bodyguard I don’t remember anything in the contract about being a housekeeper.”

You turn to check Tom’s face, or John, or Richard. Nobody seems surprised by Bruce’s presence. “Bruce! I thought you’d be back in the UK by now?”

Richard walks past you to squat down and prod the carpet that you’d been standing over, examining Bruce’s handiwork. Bruce returns your question with a small shrug and a twirl of the scrub brush, small flecks of liquid spinning from the bristles. He blinks and hides the thing behind his back sheepishly while also looking to see where the dots of solvent had landed, “No. Nothing pressing that couldn’t wait a bit longer.”

He gives you a short nod before disappearing into the kitchen. You hear the thunk of the brush landing in the sink as he moves about. You’re not quite ready to step into that room, yet, so you stay firmly rooted to the spot in the main room.

It’s Richard who continues with the explanation, standing from where he’d stooped down and wiping his hands on the back of his jeans. “We took a vote. Decided three sets of eyes were better than two. And three sets of hands would make for faster cleanup.”

“Yea. Except it’s just been one set.”

You tilt your head to the side, “Don’t you mean five? You’ve got Tom and me to….”

Nearly everyone is shaking their head at you, save for Tom who is still standing behind you so you can’t see his reaction. “No.” “Nope.” Even Bruce reappears in the kitchen doorway, trying to untie the apron while shaking his head in the negative.

Richard points to the loveseat as if commanding you to sit. “We’ll handle the cleanup. You and Tom – sit. Rest… supervise if you feel the need, but absolutely no scrubbing. I’m not calling the doctors to tell them you popped a stitch or got bleach into your sutures.”

“I was cleared for work. We both were!” You protest, not moving towards the loveseat as instructed. You half expect Tom to chime in too, but he’s busy trying to dig into his pocket to retrieve his phone. Your barely formed argument with the three bodyguards falls aside as you watch him wince through pulling his phone free of his slacks. Is he in pain? Had he turned his hand in the wrong way? A fresh wave of guilt washes over you.

Tom bobbles his phone over into his uninjured hand – something he should have done to start. The amusement in his expression helps to lessen your worry. “Darling, if you’re feeling so inclined we’ll see what we can tackle, hamstrung as we are, after they leave tonight.” Any further commentary is cut off when he examines the caller ID and his eyebrows arch dramatically. “It’s Mum. Amazed she’s still awake… but when she worries…” Rather than try for further explanation he answers the call. “Hullo Mum. We’re home….”

Hmm speaking of calling family, you owe your parents a phone call or five. You’d called and talked to them yesterday via the phone in your room in the hospital, but you should probably give everybody updates – unless Richard, or John, or Bruce had already done that?

“Richard?”

Richard and John have taken advantage of your momentary distraction and advanced from the main room into the kitchen. Richard pauses his analysis of the grout work to shake his head, “Still arguing?”

 You step up to the doorway of the kitchen to watch the three men examining the stains that Bruce has been working on, but proceed no farther. “No… well yes, but no. Have you talked to my parents today?”

Tom’s conversation fades, his assurances to his mother becoming muted to your ears. You turn to see him ducking down the hallway to continue the call in the bedroom, leaving you to resume your battle against the three men determined to make you sit and be useless in your own home.

Even standing in the other room and looking into the kitchen you still feel a creeping nausea. Having the three bodyguards focusing on the stains just draws your attention to the mess. Even if you triumph in your insistence that you get to help you may just focus your attention on whatever mess had been made elsewhere in the house.

You don’t hear Richard’s response to your query, as something else has now occurred to you, “Oh. Oh.” You turn to look towards the bedroom where you can still make out Tom’s conversation, “Mitch said something about Tom’s… things….”

John is nodding, slowly, when you turn back to look into the kitchen. “Y-es. He’d smashed a few things and then thrown the rest out the bedroom window into the drive below.”

Shame the bedroom window didn’t face the courtyard instead. Hopefully there hadn’t been any traffic and most of Tom’s possessions were still salvageable – and retrieved before the rain had started to fall overnight. You don’t hear the dryer running… at least Tom’s things had all been put away in drawers and in the closet. How much could Mitch have thrown out the window?

“I – well – Tom will find it, probably – but you might need to take him shopping again, ______.” Bruce leans back against the kitchen counter, folding his arms across his body, the action causing him to tuck the scrub brush beneath one bicep.

Oh no. What of Tom’s had been destroyed? You’re not left to wonder very long. Tom comes back down the hallway carrying a baggie. You recognize the shape of the thing within the plastic instantly – the bottle of cologne you’d gotten for him during your most recent visit to London. You reach out to touch the bag, then Tom’s arm once he’s close enough.

Tom twitches his mouth to one side, “I was sitting there on the end of the bed reassuring her that we were well looked after, nothing damaged beyond repair, and then smelled it.” It isn’t as though Tom wears cologne all that often, anyway, usually just for special events. It’s sweet that he’d brought it with him along with his few other favorite items from his wardrobe.

You notice a sticky note slightly crumpled in Tom’s other hand and peek at the writing on it: Sorry, mate. Bruce had tried to contain the mess but hadn’t thrown the bottle away, knowing its significance. Your eyes threaten to prickle with tears but you do your best to blink them away. After everything that Mitch has done, this has to be the end of it. You can’t continue to let that man sully things in your life.

You aim for a supportive smile, something made all the more easier with the way Tom looks at you. Yes, the now three bodyguards certainly help, but even if it is just Tom standing there beside you, you feel safe when you’re near him. “Next time we visit your mother I’ll get you another bottle…. or a different something, if you want.”

"No," Tom says as he settles his stance to put himself so he is more eye level with you, "Another of the same is fine. It’s the one I associate with you."