Crumbs (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Hobnobs and Necessities

We fall into a bit of a routine as the days go by.  I get to the shop early, as usual and Tom usually will show up around 8 or 9 after his run.  I feed him coffee and pastries, and he sticks around for a bit to harmlessly flirt with Mandy and annoy me.  Then, he goes off to do whatever it is he does, and I finish up at the bakery.  We meet up for dinner every night and then usually spend the rest of the evening watching movies or sitting up on the widow’s walk talking.  It’s nice.  It’s really nice.  Having him around has made Maryland seem strangely tolerable, even pleasant.  It’s also forced me to work a little less, since he can be pretty persuasive about getting me to leave at a decent hour.

The last few days have been strange, since a cold front has moved through the area.  It was nice at first, but now it’s gotten to the point where everyone has taken to wearing jeans and light sweaters despite the fact that it is early June.  It’s the only thing anyone in town seems to be able to talk about, and I can’t count the number of times I’ve said “crazy weather, isn’t it?!” to a bemused customer.  The weather has gotten increasingly worrisome over the last 24 hours, and everyone in town seems to be a buzz with hurricane warnings.  It’s windy, gray and the sky looks as if it is ready to burst any moment.

“People are really freaking out.” Mandy pulls a heather gray cardigan around her body and starts pulling cookies from the bake case, wrapping them up for tomorrow.  I glance outside, and I can see most of Main Street.  It’s surprisingly busy, but mostly because people are starting to close up their stores, stack up sand bags and prepare for the storm.  It’s been awhile since we’ve been hit really hard by bad weather and apparently it is well overdue.  Tiny coastal towns like this are usually pretty prepared for this sort of thing, but it means a lot of scrambling beforehand.  I just keep picturing a scene out of The Perfect Storm, and it is sort of freaking me out.

“You should go home, Mandy.  I can close up.” I walk up to the windows, gazing outside.

“I can’t leave you! We need to close the windows.” She comes up next to me and we stand in silence for a few minutes, watching people outside.  It hasn’t started raining, but it is pretty much inevitable.

“Should we just close the shutters? Or actually board them up?” I ask nervously, glancing at her.  She frowns and takes a step back.

“Some people are putting plywood over the windows.  Do we have any plywood? Want me to call Marcus? He can come help us.” She is already pulling out her phone and pressing buttons.  I pride myself in being pretty independent, but I’m not all that thrilled at the idea of nailing wood to the building, so I let her call her knight in shining armor.  I move back to the bake case, and finish wrapping up the food while she calls.

We have a little television in the back and it’s turned to a weather channel.  I can hear the forecaster droning on and on about the storm and how it’s about to hit.  They haven’t stopped talking about it for at least a few days, and the fervor has only gotten worse.  It’s ominous and all the chatter is making me a bit on edge. 

I go into the back and flip off the TV.  If I hear talk of ‘Hurricane Arthur tearing its way up the East Coast’ any more, I’ll go insane. I just need to focus on getting the store closed up and then getting home to make sure everything is secure at the cottage. 

I hear some commotion in the front of the store as I close the door to the office.  The front door opens and closes and there’s a lot of banging about.  I walk out to find Tom standing in the front, his arms full of bags.

“Hi there.” I squint at him.  He’s quite a sight.  I lean against the door jamb, taking him in. He looks wind blown and a bit red faced, like he’s been running a marathon. His wavy hair is crazy and messy and I can tell he must have been outside most of the day.  Tom reaches up, pushing a hand through his hair and looking at me with an apologetic grin on his face.  He’s always a bit worried about his hair, even though it never looks bad.  I scrunch my nose at him, hoping he thinks it looks terrible, just to get on his nerves.  He sighs and plays with the zipper on the black hoodie he’s wearing.