Chapter 21
“Here. You’ll be needing this,” Tom offered, an item in his hand, but you were lost in your own thoughts.
Was this real life? Had you seriously been making out with Tom Hiddleston moments before and now were leisurely walking towards the elevators together? Everything felt so surreal. It was like the first few conversations you had with him through Facetime. You had always tried to remind yourself just who you were talking to, but upon seeing his face—you went a bit weak in the knees. Now, that sensation was tripled with each remark he gave by your side.
“Darling?” he offered once more, closer—softer. While you were trapped in your own reality, Tom was constantly concerned that once you got a taste of his life—it would be too much for you. Whether you two had feelings for each other or not—life was never that simple.
“Your phone,” came your response as you returned back to the present.
“What?”
“You left your phone on the coffee table. I just remembered,” doubling back towards the hotel room.
Checking his pockets, not out of disbelief, but rather unable to fathom how he could have forgotten something like his phone. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that he would forget to do something—as you frequently provided him with reminders as to when to switch over the laundry, take the bin out, respond back to a work email—but his phone?
The realization brought a smile to his face. “I was never really one for having my phone attached to me at all times. That is until…,” trailing off, which allowed you to respond with a smile of your own as you came to the same conclusion as him.
“Until some teacher was constantly blowing up your phone?” daring to look beside you at him. It was dangerous business making eye contact with such a man. He made you want to do so many things–namely those involving tongue.
“The highlight of each of my days. Talking to you, that is. Why worry about the phone when I have you right beside me?” And it was such an honest commentary on how he felt currently.
You didn’t quite have the words to accurately reciprocate how that made you feel. This was just him being polite, right? Of course he had some feelings for you. You had come to accept that, but you had not managed to fully accept that one of those feelings could possibly be love.
So instead of allowing a lack of words to come across as coolness, you reached down to take his hand in yours. The simple touch alone caused your breathing to hitch slightly and you prayed that he didn’t notice. Could barely hold his hand without becoming unglued…You’d be a mess before this weekend was out.
The touch was very much appreciated as long fingers and wide palm came to envelop your smaller hand. A tiny gesture was enough to make you both grin like idiots down the hallway to his hotel room.
“Now will you take this?” he asked, extending his free hand to show you the room key.
“Um, sure?” brows knitting together as you took his key to unlock the door. “So fancy that you can’t even unlock your own door,” you teased, nudging his side as you inevitably struggled with the lock mechanism on the door.
“Very funny. I meant, you should keep it. You should have a place to get away from it all if this becomes too…much,” the word held so much anxiety for him that he hoped you couldn’t see.
No worries there, for you practically fell out at his offer. “You’re–you’re giving me a key to your room?” you clarified in a hushed whisper, stopping your actions to turn towards him with arms crossed. “Is that allowed?” again, a whisper as though the halls were bugged.
Your comical worry was enough to bring Tom out of his own head. Mimicking your stance, he crossed his arms, leaning over so only you two could hear your whispered conversation. “Am I allowed to give you a hotel key?”
“Yeah. That’s not–,” looking over your shoulder to which Tom held back his laughter. You were genuinely thrown off by his offer to give you a key. “Against the rules or something?”
“What rules, Y/N?” biting back his laughter.
“I don’t know. You don’t have to check with anyone before giving out room keys to strangers?”
“You’re hardly a stranger, darling. I don’t make it a habit of kissing strangers,” his voice dipping lower, as fingers gently traced along your neck where he had previously explored with his lips.
Although you wanted nothing more than for him to take you right then and there in the hotel hallway, the logical part of your senses was winning out. “Tom,” a breathless whisper as your eyes were already rolling shut. “I’m going to need you to go into your room and grab your phone,” you instructed.
“You won’t come in with me?” And you swore you could hear a pout in his tone.
You kept your eyes shut though. “If I go back into that room with you right now, we won’t be leaving any time soon.” It was supposed to come across as a warning. Tom took it as a challenge.
Soon your felt lips along your jaw, warm breath spreading across your cheek. Your groan was mixed with longing and annoyance, for this man had the ability to bring you to your knees with an innocent kiss. “I do hope that’s a promise, Ms. L/N,” words ghosting over your skin.
Your only saving grace was the fact that up until this point he had seemingly kept his hands to himself. Had his hands been allowed to roam free, you wouldn’t have made it. Pushing your key into his hand, you took a few steps back, opening your eyes to seek some clarity.
“Phone. Now, Hiddleston,” you warned, pointing a finger in his direction, although it lacked all forms of intimidation.
Though Tom played the part accordingly, lifting his hands into the air in defeat and retreating into the easily unlocked door. Moments later, he returned to the hallway–the two of you noticeably calmer. Was this how it was going to be all weekend? Either horribly awkward or incredibly turned on? Well, you supposed there were worse ways to spend a weekend.
It had been established now that once Tom was by your side, your hands stayed woven together. It was an unspoken agreement that kept you both at ease. Neither of you dared speak it out into the universe, but how had you lasted this long without being able to touch one another?
This level of the hotel was reasonably quiet, save for the echoes of the crowds down below in the lobby. Tom spoke to you of his time filming in the hotel for Loki. You rattled on random facts you knew of the hotel such as one of the Hunger Games movies being filmed here as well. It was easy going conversation, like you two had managed to maintain over the months. The only difference now, Tom’s thumb rubbed against the back of your hand throughout the conversation.
It wasn’t until you got off the elevator, on level two, where the crowd was thick that you began to lessen your grip on Tom’s hand. You two hadn’t quite discussed what the protocol was going to be in public. Nor logistically did it make sense to hold hands as you were working through the crowds. As soon as you let go of Tom’s hand, you regretted it. The look was fleeting, but you could have sworn you caught a flash of pain from Tom.
There wasn’t time to explain your actions before Vanessa was there, clipboard in hand (what was even on the clipboard?), ushering Tom to the room for photographs. People were too wrapped up in their own lives to really notice that it was Tom Hiddleston passing them by. You could see the realization hit a few of them, but by the time they understood who they just saw, they had walked off. It was so very odd and unlike anything you've experienced before.
Meanwhile, you were so wrapped up in the crowds, observing the way people reacted to Tom—you lost him and Vanessa on the way to the room. They had managed to duck back behind a door and you were still weaving through the crowds. The panic didn’t set in until you made it to the door, but were stopped by another person with a clipboard.
“I’m sorry, ma’am. You don’t have access back here,” came an apology from one of the volunteer staff.
“Oh, but I’m with them–,” gesturing towards the door where it was clear that neither Tom nor Vanessa were waiting for her.
“You have to have a badge to get back there,” the man tried to explain.
“I have one right here,” lifting up your badge that every visitor of Dragon Con had to sport to even get into the hotel.
“You have to have a red or yellow badge. Yours is purple.” At this point, you noticed how his badge was yellow and stated staff beside the color, where yours was purple. You hadn’t noticed that Tom even had a badge, but perhaps when you’re Tom fucking Hiddleston—people just leave you be.
“Could you just go in there and ask Vanessa?” you pleaded, your panic rising a bit higher. Logically, you knew there would be a way around all of this, but in the particular moment…you felt so low. You were begging with a stranger to let you go back and see your own boyfriend.
Was he your boyfriend? Had that actually been established except for a brief phone conversation, all because you referred to him as that to a stranger? It was incredible how half an hour earlier, you felt as though everything was going to work out perfectly and then now—you felt like an imposter. As though Tom was going to realize that you were just a teacher. Nothing special.
All of these insecurities continued to play through your mind as you stood against the wall, attempting to get a text to Tom. However, the hotel was notorious for having terrible service. So, there you stood for the next ten minutes, wondering what to do next. Finally, the side door opened and Vanessa came scurrying out with a yellow badge in her hand.
“Y/N? Y/N…,” she concluded with a sigh of relief as she recognized you and ushered you to come on over. “Sorry about that. With the crowd and Tom running behind, it was a madhouse back there. We should have it covered now though,” she explained, attaching a new badge to your lanyard that was now distinctly yellow. Were you staff? No. Would you now be able to follow Tom around with a little bit more ease? Yes.
“No problem. These things happen,” you assured her, although the damage had been done. Those feelings of self doubt had crept back into the forefront of your mind. They were held at bay when you were with Tom, but in the past six months of knowing him, you’d spent approximately thirty minutes with him face-to-face. Insecurities could run rampant.
You couldn’t help but flash your yellow badge at the staff member who wouldn’t let you through early, a little gleam in your eyes. Once behind the door, Vanessa gave a deep sigh as though she was expressing that same relief from finding you yet again.
“Thank you for coming back out there,” you added in genuine thanks.
“Sure thing. I didn’t have much choice though,” a pause as she cut her eyes towards you. “Tom was going to walk out if someone didn’t find you. He was all polite about it and all, but damn. According to him, you two are a package deal. Hence the badge,” Vanessa explained, although you felt there were probably a lot more hoops she had to jump through to get this badge than what she would say to you, because apparently you and Tom were a package deal. There wasn’t any need to have butterflies, but boy did you have them.
As you both entered the smaller conference room, you saw three to four people in line (the rest seemingly were in an adjoining hallway, awaiting a chance to have a photograph with Tom). As you moved around the backdrop, spotting Tom, you noted how stiff he appeared. Yet when you moved around in front of him, his shoulders dipped down, stoic lines across his face softened.
“I’m sorry,” he mouthed, in between pictures. As soon as a new fan came towards him, his face lit up in a smile. You’d never get over that. Seeing his switch over from Tom to Tom Hiddleston.
You had waved it off as if it was nothing, but at the next little break, he was coming to your side, hands resting on your elbows. “I’m so incredibly sorry, darling. I looked back and you weren’t there. I wanted to come back and get you—,” he explained in a rush, but you cut him off.
“The stampede you would have provoked coming out there to look for me would have rivaled Lion King. We know how that turned out, right?” you joked, playing it off like it didn’t bother you, like you hadn’t been reconsidering your place in his life…. But Tom didn’t need to know that. You didn’t need to burden him with your worries and insecurities.
He didn’t seem convinced with your assurances, but this wasn’t the time or place to delve into it. He gave your elbows a bit of a squeeze before bounding back to his spot before the backdrop. Flashing a grin at the new fan to arrive, he gave her a hug which brought out an excited squeal from the young woman and you had to grin. Strangely enough, there was no sense of jealousy here. All of these people who came to see Tom and have a photograph with him were fans. They loved his work. Perhaps some of them found him as ridiculously attractive as you did—but rightfully so! You couldn’t blame anyone for that.
So, you settled on top of a stool near the three to four people at a time who waited anxiously to meet the star. You remembered the level of nerves you had felt when waiting in lines to meet celebrities at the convention as well. It was excruciating and oftentimes had made you feel sick with nerves.
“Tom, dear!” you called out, catching not only the fans off guard–since they had no clue who you were, but also Tom who had never experienced that term of endearment from you in an in person setting. Let alone, you called it out as though you had been doing it for years. It was his turn to have the butterflies.
“Yes, darling?” he called back in return, earning a little giggle from two of the girls in line.
“We need music. Do you agree?”
“Whole heartedly,” he beamed before introducing himself to the next fan. You took it upon yourself to find a Spotify playlist that was upbeat. Were you going to tell him that the playlist was called Top 200 Wedding Party Songs? Nope. In no way, shape, or form, were you going to mention the ‘w’ word at all.
It greatly improved the energy of the room, creating a more relaxed environment. As new fans came in, they were a little taken aback by the music, but ultimately enjoyed it mostly due to Tom's inability to keep from dancing in between photographs. However, at one point when the song “Wobble” came on–the fans and you found out that Tom didn’t know how to do the titular dance. Unfortunately this also resulted in a ten minute hold-up as you felt the need to teach Tom how to do the dance. A few metaphorical daggers were thrown by Vanessa at this point—apparently she didn’t appreciate dancing? No, more likely she didn’t appreciate being behind by ten minutes.
As the music continued to play, it actually made the time fly by. You made small talk with each of the fans as they entered the room. They were a little apprehensive at first, but your own ease in the environment made them feel comfortable as well.
“Come here,” you instructed gently even though you were halfway over to Tom by the time you made the request. “One of your curls have gone rogue,” grinning as you lifted to your tiptoes to reach the top of his head. Bending over to help you reach his hair, he gave a quick peck on your cheek to which the line gave an echo of “aws”.
“Thank you for being here with me,” soft words exchanged in the midst of “Sexyback” playing in the background. “You might have to pinch me. None of this feels real,” he admitted, slowly stepping back to get into position once more.
“I’ll do you one better,” you replied, tugging him back to plant a firm kiss on his lips. You were met with a steady hum of pleasure.
“Much better than a pinch,” admittance as he breathed out a sigh and moved back into place.
As you both settled back into your positions, you enjoyed just stealing glances for the next half an hour, continuing with the small talk, music, all of it. As long as you were near each other, it was time well spent.
“Oh, I love your nails,” you complimented the woman who stood beside you in line. Her nails were long and emerald green. You could never do nails that long and work with kids–but this lady was a queen, obviously.
“Thank you,” she replied rather shyly, though it was obvious with the way she glanced at Tom that she was a bundle of nerves that not even ACDC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” could combat. “I–I got them this color because, well–,” a blush crept up on her cheeks as she stole another glance at Tom. “Loki.”
You completely understood her dilemma. “You would make his day if you asked to do a Loki pose with him,” you suggested with a smile. “He’d also love to know that you chose to have your nails done that color because of Loki.” And it was true. He was so incredibly proud of the work he had done with this character and was never one to push aside others’ admiration for the character. He genuinely loved Loki.
“That’s good to know. Thank you, again,” giving a little smile as it was her turn to have her picture with Tom.
You were curious to see what pose they would go with, but with your music blaring through your phone, you couldn’t hear their conversation. Tom gave a bright smile as he took a look at the woman’s nails and you were so thankful that she had the nerve to show him. Honestly, they were spectacular nails. Then came a conversation about the pose they should do. Now this was an interesting one for you were able to see Tom’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline for a brief moment, then begin talking to cover up his shock.
Next thing you knew, the woman was kneeling before him and Tom was giving his best “Loki grin”. It was kinda hot… Here you were impressed she worked the nerve up to show him her nails and then there she went kneeling before him. She was indeed a queen.
Darling
We may need to recreate that pose…
The vibration of his phone and quick glance towards you to see that you had plucked yours from a side table, let him know you texted. Upon reading the message, you caught his brows shooting up once more.
Tom, Dear
With you kneeling before me…
Darling
Or you could kneel before me…
At that message, he gave a groan that you could swear you could hear over the music and promptly stuffed the phone in his pocket. The look you received next caused a warmth to form between your legs. You regretted wearing a dress because it was going to be painfully embarrassing if you left a wet spot on this stool. You knew the darkening of the eyes had not gone unnoticed by the people in line as one girl even muttered, “Oh my God!” to her friend beside her. Seconded.
You refrained from sending him any more suggestive messages for fear that he would simply look at you and you’d lose it. The playlist had ended and it was nearing the end of the allotted time for photographs. Instead of choosing more music, you looked through Tom’s schedule on your phone–but it made it very easy to hear his conversations with fans now.
“That’s such a great color on you!” one teenage girl complimented Tom.
Always the gentleman, Tom thanked her but you didn’t fail to notice his next added bit. “It’s my girlfriend’s favorite color.” Not only did he use the term, but you looked up just in time to see him gesture towards him.
“Oh, that’s your girlfriend?! She’s like so nice!” responded the girl, leaning in for a hug pose for the picture.
After the picture, Tom had tried to see your reaction to the word choice, but you were speaking to Vanessa at the time. Had he made an error? Was that too forward? It was one thing for either of you to say it in jest or the privacy of your own conversations but for him to say it to a fan?
Once the photo session was over and Vanessa had insisted upon getting them to the elevators again, you both were left to wait behind the doors yet again.
“Was that alright that I called you my girlfriend?” he eventually asked, rubbing a hand across his face. You forgot how tired he must have been from his travels and subsequent busy schedule at the con. It wasn’t until everyone was gone that he really showed his exhaustion.
“Why not? I referred to you as my boyfriend,” bringing a hand to come and rest on his chest, rubbing small soothing circles.
“Right, but that was decidedly different,” he paused, as though he was struggling with himself. “I don’t want to pretend that you’re anything other than the most important person in my life,” he admitted quietly, too tired to try and be charming about it all in his opinion.
Little did he know that he was exceedingly charming. “Did I look like I was pretending earlier?” referring back to the terms of endearment, the kiss… Again, when you were physically with him, the confidence was there as well. The moments you worried about were those when he wasn’t next to you.
“Yours, remember?” softly adding to your response. You glanced down at your badge, tilting your head slightly. “Think there’s a sharpie somewhere around here? I can write ‘girlfriend’ on the badge and write ‘boyfriend’ on yours?”
“Social media will eat that up,” giving a tired laugh as he placed a kiss on your forehead.
“Let’s get you to bed, Mr. Hiddleston. I believe a nap is in order. Both of us,” and he definitely caught that. At that moment, he couldn’t imagine anything more perfect than a nap with you. “Then I have plans for us.”
“Oh you do, do you?”
“I do. Trust me?” you asked, leading him a little bit down the hallway to await Vanessa.
“Dangerous request, darling.” Truthfully though, you had him at nap.