Crumbs (a Tom Hiddleston fanfic)

Yogi or a Sweet Tooth?

A/N: First week back to work and things have already been insane.  Hope everyone is good and thanks for all the well wishes on my wedding! That is making me insane as well! Hope you like this next part, and I sincerely apologize for any typos.  I don't have the brain power or the energy to edit this as much as it should be edited.  Forgive me.

Have you ever had one of those nights that you just want to bottle up and keep forever? A perfect memory.  Something that you will always be able to look back on and remember everything had been perfect? This night has to be one of them for me.  Tom looks amazing and well, not to toot my own pastry bag, but I look pretty good too.

He's wearing a perfectly tailored, sleek black tux with thin satin trim around the lapels.  He's got on a satin bowtie and it's adorably crooked at the moment.  He had his hair cut while I was being ridiculously pampered, and so it's super short on the sides and still rather long and floofy on top.  His natural curl is showing through, and it just makes me want to run my fingers through it.  He hasn't shaved for a few days, and has a lovely bit of well groomed scruff on his face. 

I'm wearing this amazing, long, form fitted black gown.  It's modestly cut in the front.  It shows off a bit of my shoulders and chest, but the back is all open, intricate lace.  The dress itself it made out of some sort of gorgeous, flowy matte satin material.  It is cool and silky against my legs and billows slightly around me as I walk.

The night started off with a chauffeured ride to the event, and then I got to walk the red carpet with Tom.  That was an experience in and of itself.  Sure, it's a common thing for him, but for me it felt a bit insane. It wasn't quite the pandemonium of what I can guess a movie premiere is like, but there was still a ridiculous amount of press and fans lined up  to see who was arriving.  The charity, Art for All, had gotten a lot of publicity thanks to good social media and advertising.

I was happy to let Tom do his thing.  It was fascinating to stand back and watch him work.  It was like a whole new side to him.  Still Tom, but with a dash more sparkle.  I watched him talk to reporters and say hello to fans.  I chatted with his publicist and manager, Luke, who I had met on several other occasions.  And when Luke was busy hurrying Tom along, I just watched Tom.  Hopefully there are no pictures of me, gazing and most likely drooling a bit.  Every once in awhile, Tom would look at me, over the shoulder of a reporter and he'd give me this little crooked half smile.

After Tom makes his rounds, we go inside.  The large event space is beautiful.   There are flowers everywhere, and artwork painted by local artists and students hanging on the walls, and set up on easels.  There are dancers performing beautiful, breathtaking pieces on tiny podium stages.  The lighting is dim, except for the spot lights strategically placed on the art and the dancers, making them seem like living, moving statues.

The first hour is a blur.  A complete blur.  Tom keeps handing me drinks, and I keep trying not to drown myself in them.  I'm nervous.  I've already seen four or five people that I know for a fact are people I've only seen on large, epic movie screens.  Every time I see someone that looks somewhat familiar, I make a strange little strangled "eep!" noise, which makes Tom laugh and squeeze my hand.  He always asks 'Do you want to meet them?' and I shake my head vigorously and try to find the bottom of my martini glass.  He bumps into some friends and colleagues, and everyone is perfectly nice and kind and yet I feel totally and completely out of my element.  By the time it is nearly dinner, I'm already on my third cocktail.

"If you don't slow down, I am going to have to carry you out of here." Tom whispers in my ear, a slight chuckle in his voice.  I look up at him, pressing my lips together. Yes, I've had 3 dry vodka martinis, but no, I do not feel in the teensiest bit drunk.