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

Part 18

You are, by some small miracle, standing out of view of the director's chair while watching Tom's performance. The roar that he bellows gives you shivers - the subtle shift of his shoulders as he turns away from the fallen Peter - the confident swagger as he steps towards the camera and the third actor taking part in the scene, Ana. As he moves the mixture of sweat and faux blood glisten under the lights of the soundstage. Watching Tom's controlled heavy breathing sends a pang of longing running through you, a desire to feel that very movement of his chest, or better yet, be the reason for it. You forcibly keep yourself as still as everyone else present. With all the crew watching, all the eyes absorbing ever detail, somehow he seems to sense your presence. His eyes leave his costar and lift over her shoulder to find you standing apart from the crowd.

Your heart begins its oh-so-familiar conga within your chest. You start to scold yourself while still determinedly remaining motionless. You shouldn't have wandered over to watch them filming, let alone stay for multiple takes. This is what happens – you end up in his direct eye line and ... Now? Lordy, this is probably not what he had in mind when he asked that you stay on location. On location and on the soundstage are two very different things. Why didn't you stay in wardrobe admiring the costumes? The temptation to see Tom performing had held too strong a pull and now here you are.

When his lips part you can almost see his mouth moving to form your name. Thankfully the words that come out are apparently his lines. You allow yourself a small smile which makes the corners of his eyes crinkle in response. His gaze then slips back to its mark, to his costar Ana, and the scene continues.

As soon as the director calls cut you begin to edge further towards the exit while Tom's attention is still on the feedback he is being given.

The director is ecstatic with what he has captured. "Yes, yes. Good. Ok. Again, but let's get more blood. Adjust the spray. I want the..."  

Oh thank goodness you didn't ruin the take. You have almost reached the hallway now, safety in a mere few steps. When you turn back you can see Tom surveying the moving crowd, trying to spot you again while adjustments are being made. His eyes are skittering quickly over the many people milling about. You are tempted to turn to escape down the hallway before he has the chance to spot you on the outskirts of the room but the earnest expression on his face as he searches stalls your steps.

His eyes are skipping over the tops of everyone's heads - oh - he is trying to catch a glimpse of your hair. You can't help but laugh at his technique. "Cheater..." you mutter under your breath.

Tom soon finds you, so far from where he saw you last. The small frown that had formed is instantly replaced with the same look that had sent your heart fluttering around in your chest a few minutes ago. Before his prolonged distraction draws the attention of too many more curious crewmembers you give him a small wave, waiting for him to return a nod before you make your exit.

You wander down the hallway to wait out the rest of the day somewhere out of sight, eventually settling on the muffled quiet of Tom's dressing room. The question now is how to occupy yourself for the next few hours until Tom is finished and the pair of you can go home.

To delay what is sure to be a lovely phone call to Mark to tell him about the fan encounter – oh he'll so love hearing that you're a little more willing to talk with him about having security – you take some time to look at the memorabilia that Tom has placed about the room. It is tempting to read each letter that is in view, but then these weren't meant for you. You quell your curiosity and focus on the fantastic artwork decorating the walls closer to the comfy looking stuffed chair. Tom's jacket is draped over the arm of the chair and your bag is resting atop the seat cushion. You only have to shift your bag slightly to sit. The chair is large enough to swallow you, but for a man of Tom's height it makes perfect sense.