Falling For You [Tom Hiddleston]

32

Tom's POV

I frowned as I picked up a distinctive jar of foundation, a rather expensive specialty brand that I'd only seen used for covering Chris Hemsworth's and Evan's tattoos.

"I need that," Claire murmured, taking the almost empty jar back. "This stuff works miracles."

"So I see."

With a few practiced strokes of a brush, her bruises were invisible; even knowing where to look, I couldn't see them - even the discoloration around her stitches was gone. I suddenly remembered how on rare occasions when our stunts went wrong, Vi had also used this for covering bruises that would otherwise be visible on camera. I felt ill as I contemplated how often Claire had used this makeup for exactly that purpose and I'd never even suspected.

"You know, you could be a makeup artist if you ever get tired of working for the Met." By the time she'd finished contouring, the swelling around her eye and lip were minimized as well.

"I was one for a case last year. I didn't mind it, actually."

"What kind of case?" I asked curiously as I began to pack a bag with a fortnight's worth of clothing while she finished her face. It had taken some fast talking - and help from both Kara and Dr Mendoza - but Claire had finally agreed to stay with me of her own free will until she was cleared from her concussion, finished her antibiotics, and had her stitches were removed - which gave us about a fortnight together.

Claire glanced over at me as she began putting her makeup into a small case. "I needed to infiltrate a sex trafficking ring that was targeting preteen girls who wanted to be models. Since I was too old to be a potential target myself, I needed a different cover; luckily I knew one of the photographers and she hired me on as a makeup artist."

"That's awful! I hope you were successful in stopping them."

"They won't ever operate in London again," she said with grim satisfaction. "And with the help of the information I gathered, the Milan and Paris branches were also successfully stopped shortly after that."

"I've got it, darling." I quickly twitched the strap out of her grasp and slung the bag over my shoulder to keep her from attempting to lift it and possibly hurt herself further. The damned woman still kept trying to do everything herself!

Claire glared at me and held out a hand. "I can carry my own bag, Hiddleston."

"Over my dead body," I replied cheerfully, kissing her hand. "While I do realize that you're used to doing everything on your own, you're still under lifting restrictions."

"I hate you," she groaned, no heat to her words.

I snorted. "You're only saying that because you know I'm right."

"Don't rub it in."

I pulled out my mobile and smirked as I pretended to dictate an entry. "At 10:13 on June 28th, 2018, Claire admitted I'm right."

She rolled her eyes and walked out the door. "Ha ha. You're hilarious, Hiddleston."

"So I've been told."

"Fuck, I hate stairs," she groaned, stopping at the edge. "Really, really hate them right now."

"I could carry you, if you like."

"I'm too heavy, Tom."

"Clarissa, having carried you yesterday, I assure you, you're not." But after seeing where she was bruised the worst, I knew the traditional bridal carry would be far too uncomfortable for her. I shifted the bag on my shoulder and turned her towards me, grasping her just underneath her pert arse and lifting her easily.