Love for Love

I was exhausted and still extremely drunk by the time I pulled myself off the plane with Tom following closely behind. I had my duffel slung over my shoulder, which kind of kept me steady as I walked into the terminal. As I did so, fans started to scream and camera's began to flash.

I groaned at the sight, covering my eyes as I moved away from the constant flashing lights and screaming girls. When I did, moving past easily because I knew that they weren't for me, I found a chair near the luggage collection area of the terminal and sat myself down on it. I stretched out and hung my head over the back of the chair. I let out a grateful sigh.

The screams continued for another few minutes, knowing that they were for Tom. When they went on longer than I expected them to, the flashes continuing to light up the room, I pulled myself up from the chair and turned around to see what was happening. I dumped my duffel bag in front of me on the chair as I watched Tom happily chat with his fans, signing whatever they asked him to and taking pictures with whoever had a camera.

Seeing how kindly he treated the people who had been waiting for God only knows how long just to catch a glimpse of him made me slide a smile upon my face. It was good timing, too, because he looked over to me at that exact moment.

His face was blank for a long stretch, his fans, or Loki's Army as he liked to call them, bounced around Tom begging for his attention. I felt myself flush, when I realised that his attentions was given to me for only that brief moment before he returned to his fans. I saw a glimpse of a smile upon his face as he turned back, knowing it was for me.

I watched Tom's fingers grasping around various fans' pens and signing their copies of dvd's, photographs, or body parts that I assumed were only going to be tattooed on later. I cringed at the though of a tattoo. It wasn't the tattoo part that grossed me out...well, kind of if someone had too many of them, but it was the actual tattooing part.

Having that constant pain, like a cat constantly scratching your sunburn I have heard, of a needle biting into your skin made my skin crawl. There were times when I really considered getting a tattoo but that confidence soon faded as I thought of the processes that occurred. With that process, I put the whole idea of getting a tattoo to the back of my mind.

Eventually, Tom managed to break away from his fans as Security arrived to escort them out of the building. Along with me, he sat on the chair that I had saved for us with a pleasant sigh. I studied him from where I sat, seeing bags starting to appear under his eyes.

Without thinking, and that was beginning to become a habit now, I reached over to Tom and ran my fingers under his eyes. It removed some of the puffiness and wasn't as obvious now. He gave me the strangest look, which I expected from him, when I draw back to myself.

"Thanks?" Tom said, a little confused.

"You're welcome," I said with a smile as the machine that carried our bags out into the room began to move. "Bags?"

I stood up and was about to move retrieve my bag when Tom called me back, saying, "No, let me."

"Tom..." I said as I watched him hurry over to grab our bags and drag them back over to our seat. "You really didn't have to do that."

"Oh yes I did, my little princess of random," Tom said with a playful smile as he handed me my heavy suitcase.

"I'm not little!" I complained, placing my enclosed fists on my hips.

"Then what are you?" Tom replied, moving a little closer to me so that his height made me look a lot shorter then I actually was.

"I'm fun size!" I said, hoisting myself up on my toes so that I held myself a little higher but clearly not enough compared to Tom.

A seductive smile spread across his lips, drawing me in for another kiss that I urged myself not to take. We hovered near each other for moments on end. Tom shuffled closer to me so that I leaned upon that perfect chest of his for support.

"Fun size, are you?" Tom asked, gaining a persistent nod from me. "Come home with me and we'll see about that."

Despite my drunkenness and the tired that overwhelmed me, I surprisingly still had some sense, because I surprised myself when I said, "Going home with you on the first day we've me? No, I don't think that sounds like a good idea. Kissing you was already enough for me."

"For today or forever?" Tom queried.

"Today, obviously," I said, pulling away from me and reaching down for my duffel bag.

"Spoken like a true diplomat," he said as he watched me sling my bag over my shoulder. "Would you at least let me drive you to your hotel."

"Apartment but sure," I said without hesitation.

With that, he poked out his elbow and straightened himself out. He poked his chin out as he held his head high, pretending to be a gentlemen of old. I smiled and slipped my arm through his.

"Are you ready to depart, Miss Livingston?" Tom said in more of a English accent than he actually had.

"Why yes, thank you, Mr. Hiddleston," I replied, attempting to put on my best English accent but only failing to do so.

This caused Tom to break his demeanour, only slightly, as he accompanied me from the building to his car.

________________________________________________________________

Tom parked across the road from my apartment in East London. There were a few pubs around the area, nice atmospheric ones from what I could tell from the glimpses I had. Tom could only park his car there briefly before he had to leave for home, in which I knew he was dying to get to.

He pulled out my suitcase from the boot of the car and gave it to me. I slung my duffel bag over the handle of the suitcase so that it rested upon the top. Tom closed the boot to his car and followed me across the road to a building that looked very much the same as the rest of the street [and kind of reminded me of Sherlock Holmes].

We approached two hundred and forty-five of the street and knocked on the door. I looked up at the floors above as we waited for someone to answer the door. It was a few minutes before the door opened and I was seriously considered taking Tom up on his offer to return to his apartment. It was a ridiculous time of the morning and I didn't really want to stand out in the cold waiting for people.

An older woman with died blonde hair opened the door. She was dressed in her dressing gown with a robe over the top and a pair of slippers protecting her feet from the cold. I gave her a pleasant smile, in hopes of warming her frown, before I spoke.

"I'm Nicole Livingston," I said pleasantly. "The new tenant?"

"Ahh," the woman said, her voice thickly accented. "I wasn't expecting you for a few hours, yet."

"I expect taking a taxi would have taken longer," I said, glancing thankfully up to Tom. "I had a lift."

The woman glanced harshly to Tom who only returned her gaze with a smile.

"I'm Matilda Thompson, your land lady," Matilda said, matter o' factly. "I live on this floor and the one below. You have the top two for yourself." She glanced to Tom. "I don't expect you to be coming in at this hour."

"No no," Tom replied. "I better be getting home." Tom turned to me, took my face in his long, spindly hands, and kissed my full on the mouth with as much passion as I had experienced from the airplane bathroom. "You have my number, as I yours. I'll be in contact."

And with that, Tom made his way back to his car. Matilda and I watched him walk across the street when I shouted out to him, "What if I don't have your number?"

"Check your mobile because I'm pretty sure that you do!" Tom shouted back as he waved to me and Matilda before slipping into his car.

I saw Matilda give a small wave back as Tom started up his car, drove down the street and out of sight. Quickly, I pulled out my phone from my jacket and searched through the contacts. I couldn't find Tom's name anywhere, no matter the amount of times I went through the contacts.

I decided to then head into my messages where I found a message from a recipient named: Loverboy. This made me smile as I turned my eyes to the message beneath it, reading: Love of my love, star of my stars, I invite you to a little game us English call football where we shall discuss the plans for my thirty-first party this coming Saturday. Loverboy. p.s. I don't expect us to discuss much, if you know what I mean.

"Cheeky one, that boy is," Matilda said, saying exactly what I was thinking.