Crumbs (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Epilogue

A/N:  Woo! Here's a quick epilogue for everyone.  Thanks for all the feedback and support on Crumbs! I loved writing it.  Sorry I haven't been around lately...I got married! Woooo!!! It was a fantastic day :) Thanks for all the well wishes!

Keep tuned, I'm working on my next Tom fic! It's called "Hello Again".  I hope to have a first chap posted within the week! Thanks guys!

2 months later

“We’re going to be late.  My mother is going to kill me if we are late.” I shout over my shoulder, hobbling around the first floor as I put my boots on.  I can hear Tom upstairs.  There is a scuffling sound, a loud thud, and then a muffled string of curses.

“Are you okay?” I frown and look up at the ceiling.

“I’m okay.  It’s going to have to be amputated though.” Tom’s voice calls out, and I don’t even try to muffle my laugh. 

“Come down here and I’ll kiss it better.” I say with a laugh.  There is another thud, and then a rapid rumble of feet.  Tom comes flying down the stairs of the hobbit hole, crashing into the wall, all legs and arms.  He’s half dressed, his jeans on but unzipped and shirtless.  Yowza.  I stand up straight and he comes to a stop in front of me. 

“That was quick.” I mumble, smiling.  He grabs me, slipping his hands around the back of my neck and through my hair and kisses me deeply.  Mmm, sweet sugary lumps.  I’ve missed him. 

“I don’t care if we’re late.  I’ll bear the wrath of your mum.  Let’s be really late.” He presses his body against me, and I can feel the shower dampness of his skin. He tastes clean and smells like my vanilla lavender soap, which makes me smile mid kiss.

“I want to ride the ferris wheel.  And do the corn maze.  And eat pumpkin things.” I pull away, but put my hands against his flat stomach.  His muscles and skin react, tightening and moving against my hand.

“I’ll give you something to ride.” He murmurs into my ear.  I squeal and punch him gently in the stomach.

“Sorry, that was graphic, wasn’t it?” Tom laughs and leans away, his smile big, brightening his face.  I nod and push him toward the sofa.  He stumbles back, but only a foot or so.  I push him again, raising my eyebrow and this time I push him hard enough that he falls back onto the couch.  He sprawls there for a moment, watching me, a tiny confused but hopeful smile on his lips.

“It was graphic, you potato.  But maybe I like graphic.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him and then pounce on him.  He makes this crazy, laughing scream noise and then we are simply wrapped up in each other and there are no other noises but our kissing, and breathing and sighing.

It has been two months since the Summer Celebration.  Since Tom showed up at Tiny Baker, offering me everything.  Since I took him up on that offer, and didn’t look back once.  It hasn’t always been the easiest two months.  He’s been working, which means I hardly see him.  And I’ve been working as well.  Tiny Baker has never been busier.  I’ve been transitioning the Maryland store into a bigger hub for the business, and turning the LA store into just catering.  It’s been fun and overwhelming and exciting.  And knowing that I have Tom with me, and on my side through all of it makes it even better.  But perhaps he’s always been on my side and with me.   

All the work makes it hard but we’d been prepared for that.  We’d been preparing for that for what seems like years.  We were already good at doing our own thing, and then reaching out to each other when we needed to.  Not much has changed, except we do try to talk at least once a day.  Even if it’s just a quick phone call, or a silly text.  His hours are often much different than mine, and time differences make the burden even harder.  But there’s nothing quite like waking up to 17 texts from him, all of them listing the reasons why he wishes he were with me in the magic bed.