Friends, Lovers, or Nothing

Every muscle in my body ached. My feet screamed at me with every step I took towards my apartment, coming back from a long day of training. I had made the bad decision to continue training even though I knew I was coming down with something, and now I was paying for it. I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, but I fumbled with my phone to call Tom. I needed to hear his voice. It rang a few times and I found myself praying for him to answer.

"Hi, Grace!" Relief washed over me and I collapsed onto my couch, finally making it into my apartment.

"Hi, Tom," I said weakly. I was close to falling asleep.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?"

I couldn't even process the fact that he had just called me a new pet name. "I'm coming down with something. I think it's the flu."

"Oh no! Did you train today?"

I nodded against my phone, but then I remembered that he wouldn't see it. "Mhm."

"Shit, Grace. Where's Jenny? Can she come over?"

I yawned. "No, she's out with Jeremy. I couldn't ask her to do that - Oh fuck."

Tonight was supposed to be my first date with Joe. We were going out to dinner, and I was actually pretty excited once I got over the fact that he wasn't Tom.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I was supposed to go out with Joe today!"

I hadn't told Tom that Joe asked me out, or that I had said yes. In my delirious state though, it seemed like anything could slip out.

"Joe?"

"Yeah, the guy from the party? He-"

"I know who he is." Tom snapped at me. Was he angry? I was speechless. I quietly waited for him to say something else.

I heard him sigh into the phone. "I'm sorry. Why didn't you tell me?"

"It slipped my mind," I lied.

"Well you can't go. You need to stay home and get better," He said sternly. I was incredibly turned on by his ordering me, and the fact that he had gotten angry. It was a side of Tom I hadn't seen before, and in my delirium I couldn't even put two and two together.

"Tom, I'm falling asleep."

"Okay, darling. You take care of yourself. I'll call you again in a few hours."

I held the phone lazily, trying to think of what to do about Joe. I needed to tell him, and I didn't know if I had enough energy to talk to him on the phone. I so badly wanted to text him but I knew that would give him the idea that I was blowing him off, which I certainly wasn't.

I decided to text him anyway. Me: Rain check? I have the flu.. :(

Joe: Sure! Do you need me to come over?

I smiled to myself. Stupid British men. Me: No, I don't want you to get sick. Thank you.

With that, I drifted into a deep, long awaited sleep.

--

When I woke up, I was completely out of it. I had just experienced weird, Alice in Wonderland-style dreams. I had no idea what time it was, but I could smell chicken wafting through my apartment. I heard dishes clang and a muffled obscenity, and I sat straight up on the couch. I immediately regretted it, my head beginning to pound.

Who the fuck was in my apartment? I looked around for the nearest item I could use as a weapon, grabbing my shoe and creeping towards the kitchen. I peered around the corner and blinked when I saw the tall and lanky man hunched over the stove, cooking chicken.

I closed my eyes and pinched myself, opening them again to see that Tom was still standing there. "Thomas William Hiddleston, what the fuck are you doing here?"

He turned to look at me, smirking. His hair was gelled back, probably from filming his movie. He wore a loose red plaid button-up and jeans. "What kind of a greeting is that? And why are you holding a shoe?"

I looked down and chuckled, putting the shoe down. "I thought you were a burglar! Or someone who just really wanted to use my kitchen."

"Well, you do make it easy with the whole key under the doormat thing," Tom commented.

I groaned, bringing my hand to my throbbing head. I went into the cabinets and found the Advil, quickly downing them with some water. Tom looked at me, sympathy showing through his bright blue eyes. "I'm making you chicken soup. I want you to go back to the couch and watch some TV."

"Okay, bossy," I grinned at him. "But really, thank you for all this. You really didn't have to. I'd hug you right now, but I don't want to get you sick."

He laughed. "Thanks."

I went back to the couch, taking a blanket and wrapping it around myself before flopping down and cuddling in the cushions. I turned on the TV, settling on some old re-runs of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. I drifted in and out of consciousness until someone knocked at the apartment door. I opened my eyes, watching Tom walk over to the door and answer it.

I nestled my face into the couch, not wanting to know what was at the door. I had a feeling I already knew.

After a few minutes, I heard the door click shut and Tom cleared his throat. I opened my eyes and watched him as he set down a vase full of flowers on the table in front of me. "They're from Joseph Morgan. I'm sure they'll help you get so much better," He scoffed.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "What's your deal?"

He sat down on the couch by my feet, taking his bottom lip into his mouth. He looked at me thoughtfully, his mouth agape. "I don't...I don't want you to go out with him."

My breath hitched in my throat. I sat up on the couch so that I didn't feel so awkward. "Why?" I asked softly.

"Because I'm in love with you."

Tears started to sting at my eyes. I was convinced that I was still in some crazy dream as a result of my sickness. "Tom..."

"I'm sorry. I know it's out of line, but," He bit his lip, his eyes emanating his vulnerability. He looked like an adorable puppy. "I just had to see if there was any possibility that you feel the same way."

I could feel myself shaking, adrenaline coursing through my veins. "Don't apologize," I paused. His gaze at me was intense as he waited to hear my approval or disapproval of his confession. I enjoyed knowing how he felt for once, so I relished it. "And I'd say there's a good possibility that I feel the same," I grinned.

He crawled over to me, a wonderful smirk lighting up his face. He grabbed my legs, pulling me down so that I was lying on the couch again. He pinned himself on top of me, staring into my eyes. I could tell that he was genuinely happy. I wanted him right then and there, but I wasn't going to be responsible for a delay in the filming of his movie.

"Tom, I can't get you sick," I said quietly. He sighed, dropping his head disappointedly. I giggled when a piece of his hair fell and grazed my forehead. He got off the couch and kneeled next to my face, and I turned on my side so that I was facing him.

"I hate the flu," He mumbled. He brushed some stray hair out of my face before kissing my forehead softly. He had done it a million times before, but this time it was different. It was more passionate, less innocent. My face grew red and I pulled my blanket over my head, kicking my feet around in excitement. I couldn't believe this was real.

He disappeared into the kitchen, coming back with a hot bowl of soup. "Here you go, little sick one."

I sat up on the couch, crossing my legs and taking his offering gratefully. He sat down next to me, his leg grazing mine. We both tried out best to focus on the TV, but the night was filled with knowing glances.

"You have the worst timing," I mumbled, yawning. I wrapped the blanket around me tightly. "I've never wanted to kiss someone more than I do right now."

"Oh darling, believe me," He said huskily. "I know how you feel."

"But alas, I'm tired, and sick, and I feel awful not to mention I probably look awful. So you'll just have to wait," I yawned again. "You can sleep in my room."

"You look beautiful, as always," He corrected me. "Goodnight."

I smiled, closing my eyes and drifting off. The minutes passed quickly and suddenly I was awoken by my phone buzzing. Since I was subscribed to Tom's tweets, every time he did so I got a message.

"@twhiddleston: Song of the Day: "What If", by Colbie Caillat"

I smiled, dropping the phone somewhere on the couch and finally submitting to sleep again.