“Hey (Y/N), you want anything?” Tom asked, head disappearing into his refrigerator. After a long day of press tours in London for the newest Avengers movie, he had invited you back to his place so you could watch a movie to wind down. After all, he’d been watching them at your place for the entire shoot, since you had moved to Atlanta, and had a better TV than the house he’d been renting.
“Do you have those cream soda things?” you asked in response. Ever since you arrived in England four days ago, you’d fell in love with the vanilla flavoured drink that seemed to be very popular here.
You heard the clinking of glass, the shutting of the fridge door and a few steps back in your direction before two bottles of cream soda clunked down on the wooden coffee table in front of the dark blue couch, where Tom sits down right next to you. “I’m gonna have to ship these to you weekly once you leave.” He popped off the top with a bottle opener before passing it to you. “Otherwise you’ll have to come visit and steal them from my fridge.”
You laugh in response, taking the bottle opener from him, but it’s a shallow laugh. During the filming of the movie, the two of you had gotten really close since you were the only “young people” on a set full of grown-ass adults (as you two had called them) and when the shoot had ended, you’d missed him more than you expected. So much, actually, that you’d questioned if your feelings about him were those of a regular friendship or perhaps something a little more. At one point, you’d come close to calling Scarlett or Lizzie about it, but decided against it. There didn’t need to be a secret conspiracy looming around the cast, and anything that was said was bound to get leaked, with your luck.
But that’s why you didn’t want to leave. Because once you left, you were no longer really co-stars, at least till the next Marvel movie you were both cast in. The premiere had come and gone in a flash, and you were finishing a few post movie interviews this week. After that, you would move on to another project, Tom probably would too, and you’d once again be separated by the boundary that was the Atlantic ocean.
You could do something about it, the voice in the back of your head said. You choose to ignore it, popping open your bottle of soda and turning back towards the TV. “So, what are we watching?”
“I don’t know,” Tom said, swiping through a row of movies with the remote. “What about this one?” he asks, landing on the poster for Parasite, which you knew had come out a few weeks ago. Neither of you had really had time for movies with the tour though, so you hadn’t seen it.
“Yeah, sure,” you respond, taking a sip of the extremely sugary drink. You were starting to think it wasn’t actually that good, it was just the association of Tom’s house with it. You wouldn’t complain though. It would be something of this tour to take home.
Tom clicks play and leans back on the couch, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He wouldn’t think there was anything romantic about the gesture, it was something he alway did since the night in Atlanta when your heater broke in the middle of the movie and you two had hugged to keep warm, since your house always seemed to be freezing without the heat on, despite being pretty far south. You leaned into his grey hoodie, which you would never admit was your favourite. It was the softest, so it gave you an excuse to hug him more than usual. You just wanted to be wrapped in it, though Tom wrapping his arm around you with it on was just as good, if not better.
You were about forty minutes into the movie, which was okay in your opinion, when Tom’s phone buzzed a few times.
“You gonna get that?” you asked, reaching forward to grab the remote and press pause. Usually when Tom got a text, he got seven hundred. You’d come to learn that’s just how his friends were.
He laughed sheepishly and pulled his phone from the front pocket on his sweater. His expression changed when he read the message, though you couldn’t read it well. He definitely wasn’t sad or upset, but he looked almost… skeptical? Confused? He tilted the phone in your direction and gave you a chance to read what was on it, which was an article title, attempting to insinuate some sort of romance between him and you. The image used was one from the movie, where your characters had had a somewhat romantic subplot. The first line seemed to imply you had become enamoured with him during the filming, and it had only taken off from there.
This had happened quite a bit since the premiere, as people were quite shocked about the romantic storyline, and had decided the two of you, not just your characters, would make a good couple. Of course, you had already decided this for yourself, but that didn’t matter right now. You simply rolled your eyes in mock disagreement and looked back towards the movie. It wouldn't do either of you any good to ponder on the media and hypotheticals. “Don’t worry about it,” you said, pressing play. “It’s just gossip.” You really wish these sites would stop, at this point it just feels mocking.
There was a few seconds of silence, and very little movement, before Tom picked up the remote and pressed pause again. You turn to look at him, confused on why he stopped the movie, and even more confused at the look he’s giving you.
He purses his lips and looks down on you, leaning on him. “But what if it wasn’t just gossip?”
You just blink at him, unable to comprehend what he just asked. The only response you can make out is a bewildered “huh?”
“You seriously haven’t thought about it?” he asks, seeming astounded that the idea might be one sided. “I literally have my arm wrapped around you right now and you aren’t taking a hint?”
“I…” you stutter, trying to wrap your head around it. “I didn’t know you meant it that way,” you eventually say, though your voice is quieter than it usually is.
“Am I reading this wrong?” he asks, and he just barely pulls his fingertips away from your shoulder. “I don’t wanna make this weird.”
You sigh, finally getting there, and turn towards him, just now realizing that when you do this, your faces are just inches apart. “No,” you say. “You’re not.” Up close like this, outside of work, you can really get lost in his eyes, just like you had wanted to do all those times on set, though it would've been entirely unprofessional. Even though you’re looking into his eyes, you can see a smile emerging on his lips.
“Thank god,” he says, and you smile a bit at that. He leans forward and you close your eyes.
Your lips meet and it feels like everything you’ve been hiding for the past months comes rushing out through the touch. You had to kiss him once on set, but that was different, that was forced and it wasn’t you, it was your characters. Now you finally got to kiss him, and it was amazing. You felt as if you had to resist the urge to just melt right there. He tastes sweet, though you aren’t sure if that’s the emotion or the cream soda on his tongue.
He pulls back after a bit, though he doesn’t go far, resting his head against yours. “You’re gorgeous, darling,” he says, in that accent of his, and you can’t resist the blush that creeps up on your cheeks.
He kisses you again, harder this time, and you fall back against the seat cushions of the couch.
Okay. So maybe it’s not just gossip anymore.