Crumbs (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Flour Bum

The following few days pass in a blur.  It’s all the same—Tiny Baker, Tiny Baker, Tom, Tiny Baker.  We spend a lot of time together, but he hasn’t slept over since the night of the Father’s Day Festival.  I’m not sure if it’s a conscious decision on his part, but I try not to read into it.  I’ve been too busy to really dwell on anything.  My life has returned to baking all day, and then falling into an exhausted stupor at the end of the day.  I’ve had two interviews for a new head chef, but neither of them were very promising.  I’m starting to get a little desperate, and I’m beginning to wonder if I should just start planning my retirement in Maryland. 

I have started planning out the rest of the summer, and I’m desperately trying not to panic. Business has tripled since the Festival, and I am struggling to keep up with everything.  I have orders to fill, and I’m planning on how I’m going to get hundreds of desserts ready for the Summer Celebration.  Mandy has offered to help, of course.  My part time pastry chef, Susan, has been lovely enough to offer her services.  She usually keeps a crazy schedule, working at the bakery in the wee hours of the morning.  It works best with her other job.  I’ve only seen her a handful of times the whole summer.  She has already said she will be able to come in more, and help with the Summer Celebration baking.  Even Tom has promised he will help, and I’m taking him up on his offer. 

I’m also working around taking the trip to London with Tom.  It’s only a few weeks away, and I need to make sure I will be able to handle leaving the bakery alone for four days.  Tom had originally pushed for us to stay for a week, but he knew I wouldn’t be able to leave the bakery that long, so we settled on four.  Most of that time will be spent traveling, but it is the best I can do.  I’m pretty excited for it.  Mandy and I are going to go into Baltimore in a few days and go shopping for a dress. I’m ready to splurge, and look absolutely amazing for the charity event.  Which probably means I should stop eating so many croissants.  And sampling the chocolate frosting I made for my German chocolate cake. 

The cake is for dinner tonight.  I know it is one of my uncle’s favorite cakes.  I haven’t seen him, or my cousins Laura and Flip in so long. Since my relationship with my mother has lightened considerably, I’m not completely dreading an evening spent with my family.

“Remember that time at Henry Gray’s house?” Tom asks suddenly, breaking through my thoughts.  “You ate all that chocolate cake and we did shots of 99 Bananas, and then you passed out on one of his lawn chairs.” Tom pipes up from the corner.  He’s desperately been trying to frost some peanut butter and dark chocolate cupcakes, and he’s been making a mess for the past 15 minutes.  He holds one up, looking a bit unsure.  It’s a disaster.  Cupcake frosting can take a bit of artistry, and I’m not sure he’s got it in him.

“Don’t remind me of that night.” I groan, rolling my eyes.  “That’s…lovely, TW.” I nod toward the cupcake.

“Don’t insult my art, Charles.” Tom huffs and puts the lopsided cupcake down on the tray.  It’s not pretty, but it’s hilarious, so I let him keep going.  Maybe I can sell those for half off.  Or just give them away for free to starving children, or stray dogs.

“We were all wasted that night, it wasn’t just me.” I box up the chocolate cake, and put it in a plastic bag to go.  Tom is coming with me to dinner, and it makes me a little nervous.  I’ve been fighting butterflies all day, which has led to me only eating half a bagel early this morning and about two pots of coffee since then.  I’m a little jittery, and I’m not sure it’s a great combination.  I’m like a caffeinated, twitchy robot.

“I went skinny dipping that night. You were already passed out.” Tom laughs under his breath. 

“No, I wasn’t.” I look up at him and give him a wicked grin. His mouth drops open a bit, but then he laughs.