This chapter jumps around a bit in terms of time settings just as an FYI :)
Filming has been nearing an end recently, the days becoming shorter as the to-do lists get ticked off quicker. You keep pretending that it's not, that this will never end because as much as the mornings were early, the days were long and gruelling and you were forced to hide your relationship, the people were nice. The atmosphere of working with these people was amazing, it was brilliant to be so close to the set of the films you had adored for so long and see so much so early in the process. It had all in all been arguably the best thing you'd been involved with ever. Still, all good things must come to an end.
"So, it's my responsibility to host the end-of-filming party" Tom informs you while pouring you both some tea. "Do you want to help?"
You try not to look too over-excited but jump on the opportunity. This was likely to be bigger than the normal parties you attended back home as they usually consisted of you and a few friends getting completely rat-arsed.
"I'd love to! What did you have in mind so far?"
"Not a lot yet, I could really do with some help for music though" he admits, pulling out an A4 notepad that had the heading "Wrap party" scrawled at the top with nothing under it. There were a few doodles around the page giving evidence of him losing focus. His handwriting always fascinated you, it wasn't particularly unique but it certainly wasn't as neat or delicate as you would have imagined it to be. You smile at his brow furrowing instantly at the site of the paper, his thinking almost loud enough to hear.
"Well why don't we look at our own playlists? It's easier to find the songs you want when they're listed rather than being expected to pull names out of thin air" you suggest already picking your phone up to start scrolling through. "I'll write some I think are good down, you do the same and then we'll compare. How does that sound?"
Tom smiles at you and follows, picking up his own phone to scroll through his music. "Why did it seem so much simpler when you said it?" he wonders, pulling the pad closer to him to start writing.
The pair of you sit in silence for a while, the stillness only broken by occasional clips of songs played either by an accidental click or a test to see if the song meets the criteria. The evening is spent comparing and contrasting various ideas, the focus shifting from music to food to dress code and more. Your eyes start to go fuzzy at the amount of things you'd read and written in the hour or two you'd been sitting together, your teas long since cold.
"y/n, I think we've done more than enough for tonight" he tells you through a yawn, standing up to stretch his back from being hunched over for as long.
"I know but I think I've got a good idea" you mumble back, scribbling something vaguely legible down in fear of losing your train of thought through the sentence.
Tom takes the pen from your hand and sets it down away from you, forcing you to look up at him. He picks his phone back up and starts navigating his way through the apps with a smirk on his face. You want to ask what he's doing but decide to wait, knowing you'll find out soon enough. He extends his free hand down to you, waiting for you to take it, his face still glued to the screen.
"Tom what's going on?" you finally ask while placing your hand in his, using it to help yourself up from the sofa. You study his face, looking for any indications for what he was hiding. You wrap you arms around his middle and plant gentle kisses along his jaw, stretching your body to reach up to him.
He doesn't answer or react and instead places his phone back down with a grin that he was desperately trying to fight back. He reaches round his back to take a hold of your right hand and places his other on your hip, holding your hand up at shoulder level. You find yourself starting to smile too and slide your other hand round from his back up to rest on his shoulder. He starts to sway the pair of you when the music he had clearly been searching for finally starts. "God Only Knows" by the Beach Boys swirls around the room, bouncing off of the walls to echo back around the pair of you stood together, making your heart swell. The amount of times you had dubbed this song the greatest love song of all time was uncountable.
You'd never been a great dancer but had enough of a rhythm to stay to the beat but you let Tom lead, following his steps was enough to appear like a mildly competent dancer. The song reaches the little drum rolls, prompting Tom to push you away from him to spin you under his hand before whisking you back into his embrace. You rest your head on his chest and feel his chin settle on the top your head, his hands holding yours coming in closer to the side of your bodies. The song comes to an end leaving the pair of you swaying in silence, smiling into each others embrace.
"Sweetheart?" he breaks the silence, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of your head. "Sweetheart I'm sorry but you need to go, it's getting late"
You wait to pull away from his arms to give you time to put a smile back on. Dating in secret was fun in the beginning but it was starting to get tedious, you seemed to never see a lot of couples in public but the moment you and Tom started dating they were everywhere. Roads were lined with people holding hands, stealing quick pecks from each other, laughing in each others embrace, innocently resting their hands on each others legs when they sat next to each other, draping their arms over each others shoulders too. And yet here you were, stood alone in his room with all the curtains drawn being told to go so as not to tempt anymore rumours. You couldn't look at each other for too long in public in case someone noticed, you'd never even walked together.
"OK" you whisper, kissing him back when you step away "I'll go grab my keys"
*****
"So! Last week everyone, let's make it count!" Marie announces to the team, earning a smattering of claps and one lonely whoop. Clearly everyone else was feeling roughly the same as you about finishing up.
"I've heard something about a party?" Chris asks you as everyone spreads out to get started on today. You turn your head to see him walking along with you.
"Oh, uh yeah I think Tom's hosting it, why do you ask?"
"Huh, no reason, I just wasn't sure if it was rumours or not" he answers, peeling away to head wherever he needed to go to.
You glance up and notice Tom staring directly at you, his eyes darting between you and Chris. You smile and give a small wave to him, getting a turn of the head in return as he walks over to the set.
He strides away, not bothering to pay any heed to the quiet, confused calls you made in his direction. You pass it off as him being tired, he probably didn't clock the fact that he saw you and just couldn't hear you. You were too quiet. Yes, that must be it.
The day wears on leaving you in a strange position; you never wanted the day to end because when it did that would mean you were one day closer to never working here again. On the other hand you were willing the hours to tick away faster to speak to Tom. He'd taken to distancing himself on set as a result of getting spooked by the article. At first you had thought it an overreaction, however the internet seemed to be swimming with this picture paired with various theories as to who the mystery woman is. There were, thankfully, a great deal of fans pointing out that Tom's private life isn't public business, there were many saying he was well within his right to sleep with whoever consented to as he's a grown man that they don't own. These comments and posts should've calmed you, however it seemed to be that even though there were many of these views, there were also many people getting angry. A lot of people were becoming jealous of this person seen with Tom, lots were infuriated that he would have relations that they didn't know about. You became more thankful than ever that they hadn't seen your face as they would have definitely found you if they did. Surely dating someone isn't meant to be this stressful, this terrifying?
"Hey, y/n, are you alright?"
You snap out of your daze and turn to see who was speaking to you. You're faced with a concerned looking Ruffalo with black dots all over his face and grey pyjama-esque clothes. Thinking back over the time you'd worked here you realise that you'd had the whole of five conversations with Mark, all of which being check-ups on each other. You always seemed to cross paths when one or the other was in need of a small check-in and so you both seemed to adopt this as your decided relationship.
