Just Like That

“That’s fine! I can make plans. See some friends,” you had assured him.

“That’s a wonderful idea!” Tom added cheerfully. Wasn’t it a lovely day? Getting back to being around people and not computer screens, talking to the woman he was quite sure he was falling in love with—it was a perfect day! It had honestly never occurred to Tom that you would be bothered by missing an evening spent talking to him. It wasn’t as though he could actually take you out on a proper date. Yes, he was excited to be working, but he also felt as though he was saving you from an evening of being tied down to a phone with only him to speak to…

“I haven’t seen David in a bit. We usually have dinner once every few months. It’s about that time,” you had added so incredibly calm. At the mention of that name, his stomach dropped.

“Sorry—what was that? You said you’re getting dinner with who?” Of course he knew the man’s name.It had been seared into his brain when you first brought him up. While neither of you got into specifics about the past, you had mentioned how your job had brought you out of the darkest moments of your life. Those darkest moments came, primarily, at David’s hands. Figuratively and literally, if Tom had to wager. Pure speculation, based on a few comments you had made…

“I said I should phone up David,” and it was as though you were screaming his name. How many times prior had you screamed his name? 

“Your ex, David?” he clarified, covering his ear to make quite sure he was correct in his assumption.

“My friend, David. We like to keep in touch.” Touch. How many times had he touched you? How often did you think of his touch? 

How often did you send him pictures of your witty t-shirts and ask him to take it off of you?

“Yes. Right. Very well.” Tom remained short and got off the phone as quickly as humanly possible. How could he handle staying on the line, only to be reminded that he was not the one taking you out? A man who had wasted away his chance with you had the opportunity to soak in your presence… Did he have any right to tell you otherwise? Of course not. Did that mean he had to be happy about it? Certainly not.

Dropping his phone into his jacket pocket, he gripped at his hands, nearly pleading for the shaking to stop. You were going to see him… Perhaps you already had in the duration of your chats with Tom. Was that why you were so insistent on him going to bed early? So you could continue your ongoing conversations with David? Any form of logic or sense was gone in these moments, when red clouded his judgement. 

“Tom! We need you over on set with Sophia,” a crew member called out as it appeared the lighting had been properly adjusted for the pair’s interview. Granted, it still had some aspects of a virtual interview, but at least he wasn’t creating some makeshift studio out of his study. He craved solitude in this particular moment. The irony was not lost on him, after all of this time wishing to be near people and now all he wanted was to be alone. To go for a run. To have a drink. To go for another run.

“Right,” forcing a smile as his answer was kept brief. He really did turn into Mr. Darcy when he was angry. At least, up until a point…

He hated feeling out of control. Despised it with every fiber of his being. He couldn’t call you up and tell you not to go out with your ex. He couldn’t announce his desire to take you out. He couldn’t admit that he had dreamed of caressing your cheek as you slowly drifted to sleep. He couldn’t tell you that he imagined waking you up in the most delicious of ways… You barely could handle it when he gave you a simple compliment. How would you react to all of that? How would you react to his painful honesty? His feelings were powerful—and obviously, not reciprocated. 

“Oi! Hiddleston! Eight months pregnant and still got here faster than you!” Sophia called out with a grin, a hand on her growing baby bump.

Another attack of realizations hit as he was halfway to his seat on set—you obviously didn’t mind when David gave you compliments, when he touched you, when he—

Fuck! Go ahead. Enjoy your damned evening! 

And this is when it truly started to unravel for Tom—because his jealousy morphed into anger. Frustration. He wasn’t tied to you in any sense of the word, as you had pointed out time and time again. It wasn’t his job to remember your schedule, to remind you to put your wash in the dryer, to love you… It was about time he realized that.

He could control one thing in this situation. Himself. His persona–what he allowed the world to see. And in this moment, it was the weapon he chose to wield.

And just like that…he took a deep breath, pushed his shoulders back, and gave that smile. He became Tom Hiddleston. Not Tom. Not the guy who played silly games with you or laughed at your ridiculous puns. No. He was Tom Hiddleston, the movie star. This is what he would allow the world to see.

Did the thought cross his mind that perhaps you would see these interviews? Yes… You would see him happy, confident—he would be the type of man that wasn’t phased by your actions, confident in his own abilities…

The rest of the day was a blur of interviews with Sophia. E!, BuzzFeed, MTV, and of course, Disney… And boy, did he play it all up. Any time Sophia would make a joke, he would laugh. Touch the side of her arm. Be absolutely delighted by her. The female interviewers? It was all darling, this and darling, that… Even the cheeky questions that were sent in from viewers, he made sure to be just as cheeky in return. 

He was fully aware of how over the top it all was, especially for those that knew Tom for some time. Yes, he had been this way years ago—a younger, less jaded version of himself. However, for those who had never been in Tom’s presence before, they were absolutely mesmerized. The charisma that radiated from the actor was indescribable. His magnetism transcended everything else. Hell, if that alligator from the first season of Loki showed up, he probably would have wanted to jump Tom as well…

Between every take, he made jokes. Any time he walked the set, he made the crew members smile. He didn’t turn it off all day. His demeanor attracted the attention of a specific woman on set, one of the women with hair and make-up. She was all legs, and scantily clad legs at that. Tom wanted to ask if she was chilled, though that probably wasn’t the comment she was hoping to inspire. A sleek blonde bob and nails that matched her lipstick. She half put him in mind of Elizabeth from his time with The Night Manager. Hell, they could have passed for sisters. He didn’t catch her name, but that never seemed to be her goal. Each time he passed her, she’d give a wink or even go so far as to graze his arm in passing. Whatever he was exuding, she was all for it. Unfortunately for Tom, he hadn’t realized just how much of his actions on set were also being filmed. 

It wasn’t until hours after dinner, well passed dessert and a third round of drinks, that evening the facade began to crumble. You’d be going out to dinner shortly. Surrounded by people and all he really wanted to do was to call you, beg you not to go. It was all too much at that moment, excusing himself for the evening. It was a very real possibility that he was going to either vomit or have a panic attack in the middle of an Indian restaurant if he didn’t get out right now. However, before he could find the solitude he so desperately desired, the blonde had found him.

“Shame to see you leave so soon,” she smiled, but it lacked any of the pleasantness that usually accompanied smiles. 

“Ah. I do apologize,” he laughed, lifting his hands as though he had been caught. “It’s been a long day.”

“It certainly has been…long,” and the way the blonde spoke—it was as though it were a threat. 

“Perhaps you should call it a night as well. I can’t imagine how early you all had to be there this morning. I appreciate everything,” Tom thanked her because—that’s what he did. Even in his jealous rage throughout the day, he had used charm and kindness as his weapons. An affable nature was how he had been trained to handle his feelings. Pretend none of it bothered you and you were golden.

“Is that an invitation?” the blonde whispered, blue eyes dipping down to assess the man as though she were already undressing him.

The idea of going home with this gorgeous woman before him wasn’t all that unappealing, especially given the fact that you were likely going to be three drinks into your date with your ex shortly. Before Tom could conjure up some excuse as to why tonight wouldn’t be the best, the blonde has plucked a business card from her purse. An almond red nail slid across Tom’s finger during the exchange. “It’s not difficult to remember. It ends with four zeros. Less numbers to keep up with and more likely for you to use it,” she added with another grin that never truly made it to her eyes.

A nervous laugh at not only the touch but the bold gesture of her card before he even so much as gathered her name. A curious glance to find that her name was Serenity. This time—a more genuine laugh at the situation occurred. Had you not been in such a tense position with Tom at the moment, he knew you would have found this all to be comical. Serenity. What a name…

“Well, you know what they say to the guy who invented zeros,” joked Tom, glancing up from the card to those icy orbs. “Thanks for nothing!”

Silence. There was no recognition in the woman’s face that this incredibly terrible pun was actually amusing. It was at that specific moment—he missed you. In no world did he want to flirt with every person imaginable or take random women back to his home… He wanted you. He wanted to laugh at bad jokes together. To argue over Shakespeare. He wanted to spend an entire conversation listening to you deflect from his compliments. He wanted you.

“Make sure to give me a call some time,” Serenity urged, leaning in to give Tom a kiss on the cheek before returning to the group’s table. 

He was a balloon that had been deflated. His actions had taken a toll on his whole demeanor, to the point he couldn’t force a smile. The sickness that had taken over his body was born from ill plans. What was he hoping to achieve by hurting you in some roundabout manner? What good would that do? In the hopes that he could calm his thoughts, he retreated to the parking lot–only to hear yet another voice calling after him.

“So what was all of that about today?” He turned around to see Sophia slowly making her way towards him—looking absolutely knackered. How in the world she managed to make it all night was beyond him. The joke had been made by her that this was all for the promise of a good curry this evening. 

“Soph–you should go back inside. I can’t—I can’t stay anymore,” and there was no sense in hiding his pain. 

“Did Long Legs finally corner you? We’ve been taking bets on how long it would take before she sank her teeth in you. Or those nails—,” a dramatic clawing gesture, which did manage to get a little chuckle from the man.

“I am pleased to say I am perfectly intact. I came out relatively unscathed and with only her number,” but he sounded disappointed.

“Wasn’t that the goal? Your Hiddleston charm was in full force today. I figured you were looking for a number or something more,” Sophia admitted honestly, which did gain a blush from Tom. “You weren’t trying to get her number, were you?”

A solemn shake of the head was his answer, stuffing his hands under his arms protectively. He didn’t have the energy to argue with his friend. 

“How many times do I have to tell you Tom? I’m in a committed relationship,” and her words caused a double take from Tom, only to be met with a wicked gleam from the woman. When he saw that she was only joking, they both shared a short bit of laughter.

“There is someone…and had we but world enough and time,” pushing out a breath, quoting one of your favorites. 

“You don’t have time? What is this–one of those escape rooms? Is there a countdown? Ooh! Is this like Cinderella? She’ll turn into a pumpkin or— what have you— if you tell her how you feel before midnight?”

“Not quite,” he replied, not in the mood for the jokes–not unless you were delivering them. Brows scrunched as the rest of her words registered passed the joke. “Why would you assume I haven’t spoken to her about my feelings?”

A knowing smile donned the woman’s face, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “That’s simple. You overthink things. Point blank.” Tom opened his mouth to defend himself only to be met with her raised hand. “Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s great when it comes to work. You’ve literally taught me everything I’d ever need to know about Loki. You’re deep and—and—,” her hands wiggled around as though she were actually searching for the word. “—methodical.” 

A self-deprecating laugh was his response. “Envious qualities in my professional life—.”

“I’m going out on a limb here to guess that it hasn’t been the best for your personal life,” a maternal softness added to her tone. A fixer to her core. “Let this woman know how you feel. If she has gained your favor enough to–,” she pointed her finger towards his head, twirling it around, “---get inside there, she at least deserves to know your feelings.”

But what if it was too late? What if his feelings weren’t enough to sway you? What if he wasn’t enough?