Twelve Red Roses (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Chapter 23- Pizza and Roses

"How handsome will you write me?"

I laugh suddenly at his question, the weight of worry being immediately lifted off of my shoulders. "Incredibly handsome," I answer with a smirk.

"Then yes, you can write me." He has a light grin on his face, and I can already imagine the different ways I could write him. Perfect on the outside. But secretly flawed. Because isn't he? At first I just thought of him as the perfect gentleman, but now that I know him a bit better, I know more about his flaws. I know he sometimes gets distracted. I know he can get upset. He can even get mad. I know he's not always graceful. I know he doesn't always keep his promises (though he tries so very hard, and I admire him for that. A for effort, Thomas).

"I'll read it," he then says with a smile. "I'll read anything you've got."

"How do you even know my writing is good?" I ask, cocking a brow.

"Because you speak beautifully as well. Especially when you don't think. When you just say what's on your mind."

I snort lightly. "When I don't think, my words are usually rude..."

"I've gotten used to it," he replies.

My lips tug up into a light smile. But I don't say anything back as we move on to the next exhibit.

~

The next day, Tom woke me up rather early and forced me to get ready so we could finish up our time in Indiana. Today we were going to visit the Soldiers' and Sailors' Monument.

We both chose rather simple clothing, and had a small bit of tea before leaving. It wasn't a very long drive, and we soon found ourselves just a few minutes away. We chose to walk the remaining way.

But we weren't all giggles and smiles while we walked. My arms were tightly crossed under my chest, and his hands casually rested in his pants pockets. I found this monument to be quite sad, really. There had been a lot of members of my family who had been in wars, and some had even died.

I stop abruptly in front of the monument, still a little ways away so we could see the whole thing. I had read it was about 284 ft tall, and it certainly did look it. I move a bit closer to Tom, my hand sliding around the small of his back, searching for a small hug. He happily obliged, his body moving behind mine and hugging me tightly. And I liked it that way. I felt safer, like nothing could hurt me. Not that I thought anything here was going to hurt me, anyways.

"Did you have family in the wars?" I ask softly.

"Some, yes. Mostly the Revolutionary War."

I frown lightly at the thought of my family fighting against Tom's family. "Me, too," I answer. "I'm sorry."

"It's the past," he replies lightly, shrugging it off. "Are you okay?"

I nod. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just... sad. Sad to think of how many people have died just because we can't get along."

"I know," he responds. His grip seems to tighten around me, and I turn my head so my cheek is resting against the fabric of his shirt. He wore a dark blue T-shirt today, with dark, almost black, jeans. He also had on more comfortable shoes than normal. I like his casual look.

"I'm okay," I repeat softly, sort of as a way to assure both him and myself. I pull away from him gently, sending him a small smile as a 'thank you'. "What do you think it would be like to live during the Revolutionary War?"

"Well for you, you'd probably be married by now to a wonderful man. But that man would most likely have to go to War. And for myself, I would probably have to fight as well," he says.