Crumbs (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Sweet, sweet, sweet

I text Tom before I leave the garage.  I don’t know what he’s doing, but I need to talk to him.  I fly back home, making it there in just under half an hour.  The Kia rocks and shakes as I push it to 70 on the highway.  Instead of driving to the hobbit hole, I go to the Oyster.  It’s late by now, nearly midnight, and I’m glad that my mother is most likely in bed.

Tom hasn’t texted me back, but when I pull into the driveway, I can see him sitting on the darkened porch.  My heart leaps to my throat as I put the car in park, and turn it off.  I climb out, astounded by the silence.  Baltimore is loud, always with the sound of cars and buses and people.  Havre de Grace is nearly silent, save for the chirp of crickets and the rustle of the breeze through the trees.  It’s totally peaceful.  It also means I can hear the blood pounding in my ears. 

I walk up the gravel driveway, teetering slightly in my heels.  I can see Tom sitting on the front porch, on the big swing.  There’s a candle lit next to him, and it gives off a dim, flickering orange light.  I walk quietly up the stairs, and I stop at the top.  He hasn’t moved, and hasn’t said anything but he obviously got my text message.

I shift slightly, and then hold onto the railing as I slip my shoes off.  I’m lowered about four inches, and my aching feet flatten and stretch against the worn wood porch planks.

“You look beautiful.” His voice breaks the silence.  It is all he says.  There is no “but...” after his statement.

“Thank you.” I whisper. 

“Want to sit?” He asks.  I nod and walk forward, my bare feet silent on the old wood floor.  I sit next to him on the swing, sliding back on the wide seat.  My feet don’t touch the ground, and I feel like a little kid.  Tom’s legs are stretched out in front of us, and he rocks us gently, bending at the knee.

“How was your date?” He says after a few minutes of nothing but crickets chirping.  I press my lips together, still feeling Paul’s wet, sloppy kiss.

“Terrible.” I grumble. “Not quite at the level of Roadside Assistance, but it was close.” We’re both quiet for a few seconds, and then it starts.  The giggles.  It starts with me, a low shake in my stomach.  We’re silent at first, just shaking ever so slightly, holding it in for the most part.  Tom has his arm around the back of the swing, and he has to move it to grip his stomach as he laughs. 

I let out this terrible little pig snort, which in turn makes him start laughing out loud.  I swat at his arm, and we both are sort of bent over in a fit.  I rest my head back against the wooden swing, and Tom laughs boisterously with his head tilted back.  It’s a freeing feeling.  Light and releasing and there is nothing like it in the world. Laughing with someone you love.

“He smiled about three times.  And he told me I was meaty.” I say, and this throws Tom into hysterics.  We’ve had conversations like this before.  In the past he used to get angry, but now, he just laughs with me.  We both recognize it’s the best thing to do. We laugh, I shake it off, I don’t have to cry. He’s shaking the entire swing.  I reach over and grab his hand.  He threads his fingers through mine and holds our hands up to his mouth, biting the back of my hand as he grins from ear to ear.

“What a wanker.” He sighs, taking a deep breath.  I shake my head with a sigh.

 “He’s a lawyer.  I’ve always wanted a sugar daddy.” I shrug.  I turn my head towards Tom.  He’s sort of slouched against the back of the swing, his face tilted up toward the ceiling. His eyes are focused up for a minute and then he looks at me.  It’s the first real eye contact we’ve made, and it feels a bit like finally waking up from a bad dream.

“What are you qualifications for this sugar daddy?” Tom asks.  I laugh and then muffle my loud voice with a hand.  He grins at me, his teeth white in the glow of the candle.