Alone Together

About two months after the release of Thor: The Dark World, Tom Hiddleston received a long-awaited letter: an invitation to Scarlett Johansson’s 29th birthday party that doubled as a Tom’s invitation to move in with her.

It had been ages since the two had actually seen each other in person. Since The Avengers, Tom had migrated back to his home in London while Scarlett had remained in California, making communication between the two quite difficult. When Tom had expressed interest in relocating to a place in Los Angeles, Scarlett had jumped at the opportunity to aid her friend in his search for an apartment. She had then offered that he stay in one of her guestrooms until he found a flat. Tom---being the gentleman he was---had politely denied, but Scarlett had refused to accepted no for an answer. A few days later, Tom had found himself in the first-class cabin of a plane headed for L.A.

Tom arrived in a cab around eleven at night, surveying Scarlett’s Spanish-Colonial-style home through his backseat window. It was all stuccoed walls and red tiles, not to mention the massive courtyard which was currently covered in flimsy streamers and slightly-deflated balloons. Tom had anticipated a small, intimate gathering between Scarlett’s closest friends. Upon having a slightly tipsy brunette invite him into the house after he’d pressed the doorbell, he found that he had been horribly mistaken.

Tom hesitantly stepped into Scarlett’s spacious living room; it was littered with a swelling mob of impeccably-dressed party patrons. Guests were draped over the oak banister of the staircase and sprawled across the cream-colored carpeting. Hands were clasped around tumblers and flutes filled to their brims with various types of alcohol. A disco ball hanging from the rafters flashed tinted beams of light into every nook and cranny. Music was blaring so loudly that Tom could feel the thrum of the speakers running through his Italian leather shoes.

Tom set down his lone suitcase and his present before noticing Scarlett. He gave a wide smile. She was dressed in a gorgeous emerald frock and her blonde curls bounced as she strode towards Tom. Scarlett flung her tanned arms around Tom’s neck and drew him in close. Tom inhaled, detecting hints of cinnamon buried in her hair. Nostalgia overtook Tom, remembering the way Scarlett had always smelled like she’d just been baking.

“How was your flight?” Scarlett asked, leaning back from their embrace, “You must be exhausted.” If he was, he was hiding it well. Tom’s blue eyes were just as radiant as ever.

“I’m a bit drowsy, but I’ll be alright,” Tom assured Scarlett with a dismissive flick of his wrist, “I wouldn’t dare miss your birthday.” He picked up his gift box and thrust it into Scarlett’s eager hands. “I hope you like it.” He hadn't had a lot of time to pick it out. The owner of the boutique he had found it in had given it her seal of approval, so it must have at least okay.

Scarlett tucked the gift under her arm. “I’m sure I’ll love it,” she answered sincerely.

Tom looked around. “This is quite some party.”

Scarlett chuckled, in full agreement with Tom’s comment. “It’s a bit much, I know,” she sighed. “I just wanted to do something fun on one of my only days off in forever.” Tom grimaced sympathetically; being in the public eye was a job that never ceased.

Scarlett grabbed the handle of Tom’s suitcase. “I’ll go put your present with the others and leave your bag in the guestroom downstairs.” Scarlett quickly objected when Tom offered to help. She then glanced towards her kitchen, hidden by the clutter of people standing in front of it. “Do you want a drink? What’s your poison?”

Tom shrugged nonchalantly. He didn’t drink very often; the last thing he had tasted before leaving London was a scaldingly-hot cup of Earl Grey. “Surprise me,” he finally suggested.

Scarlett nodded. “Okay. Stick around, I’ve got to talk to you about something when I get back.” With that, Scarlett turned on her heel, her narrow hips swaying as she pushed her way through the crowd.

Tom adjusted his tie and let his eyes wander about the room. Neither Chris Hemsworth nor Jeremy Renner had been able to make it to the soiree, so there weren’t any familiar faces for Tom to seek comfort in. A majority of the women in the room seemed like they would be more than willing to make Tom feel welcome from the voracious way they were sizing him up.

Several sets of female eyes ogled his long, toned legs that were resting in a pair of severely-fitted dress pants and stared at the taut abdominal muscles that laid beneath the navy-blue vest Tom was sporting over a crisp, white button-up. No man stood a chance next to Tom. With his head of untameable golden ringlets, his distressingly blue eyes, and his devilishly charming grin, any sensible gal would fall at his Ferragamo-clad feet.

Tom, a little unnerved by all the attention, spotted an exit in the form of Scarlett’s backyard deck. He weaved his way through the gaggle of girls in front of him (who checked out his ass as he passed them by) and hurriedly made his way outside. It wasn't that Tom didn't appreciate the attention (he was a man, after all). He just happened to prefer subtlety.

Tom quickly yanked the backyard doors shut behind him and let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t consider himself to be a rather timid individual, but extravagant, lavish parties weren’t exactly his cup of tea. He preferred spending his birthdays in pubs or restaurants with a couple of pals. Tom silently wondered how Scarlett was going to top the 29th. Perhaps attending a hot-air balloon ride with a hundred of her closest friends?

When Tom heard a soft clearing of a throat behind him, he jumped in surprise, knocking his knee into one of the glass doors.

Tom slowly turned around, his eyebrows raising as he laid eyes on a young woman curiously staring back at him. She had a pretty face; her murky, chlorine-hued eyes and her soft, crimson mouth stood out from her porcelain complexion. When she ducked her head, her charcoal strands fell before her face and down to her sharp jawline. Her choppy, tousled hair nearly just tickled her bared shoulders. Her slender form spilled into a strapless, gunmetal-grey number that allowed her pale legs to dangle as she sat on the railing of Scarlett’s deck.

“Sorry if I startled you,” she apologized, not sounding at all apologetic. In fact, the lilt in her gentle voice made her sound almost amused.

Tom leaned back against the door and gave the girl a good once-over, surveying the hard edges and sharp lines of her lanky body. "You didn’t startle me," he quickly insisted. "I just happen to enjoy banging my joints against heavy doors. The habit seems to confuse people, though." Tom attempted to remain completely stone-faced, but his teasing eyes glittered with mirth.

"I can't imagine why," the girl deadpanned. The corners of her lips turned up in a sort of half-hearted smile. Tom was suddenly overcome with the urge to conjure an all-out grin from her, one that would stop her eyes from looking so sullen. When he didn't say anything, the girl spoke again.

“So...British accent. You must be the new housemate.” She paused for a beat, looking thoughtful. “Unless Scarlett just has a collection of men from the UK that she keeps from me. Tom, right?” She glanced over at him expectantly.

Tom nodded, comforted by the fact that the girl didn’t appear to recognize him. “That would be me,” he replied, tucking his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. His casual-yet-confident stance failed to phase the young lady. Not that Tom had been hoping. “So Scarlett has spoken of me? I hope only good things.”

“Are there bad things?” The woman tilted her head to the side, eyebrow cocked challengingly. Tom licked his lips.

“None that I’m willing to share,” Tom countered, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He noticed that the girl wore no accessories, but she did have a tiny inscription scrawled across the insides of her slim wrists that he could not read. Interesting. “May I ask for your name?”

“Elliott, but most people call me Lee,” she divulged, tucking a dark lock behind her ear. Another bit of a tattoo made itself apparent.

"So, Lee, what is it you're you doing out here?" Tom was genuinely puzzled. A young, attractive woman such as herself could have been throwing herself at every eligible bachelor attending the party (like most of the women inside). Instead, she chose to keep herself company outside, where no one else had bothered to join her.

Elliott lazily scanned Tom up and down, finally stopping at his piercing crystal eyes. "I could ask you the same thing," she calmly said before tearing her eyes from the man in front of her.

Before Tom had the chance to reply, the knob on the back door began to twist, prompting Tom to back away from it. Elliott simply glanced down at her kitten-heel-clad feet.

The door pushed itself open, allowing the sounds of Macklemore’s “Thrift Shop” to seep into the formerly-silent night. Scarlett’s blonde head poked out at first, before she slipped her whole body through.

"There you are," she murmured. She softly smiled and handed Tom a champagne flute before acknowledging the presence beside him.

“I see you’ve met Lee,” Scarlett remarked, glancing at Elliott and then back at Tom. Elliott leaned forward in her makeshift railing seat, making her collarbone tattoo even more prominent.

“Yes, but I still have yet to find out how you two know each other,” Tom pointed out, raising his champagne glass to his lips. Who was this mystery of a woman? He looked to Elliott for an answer, but she just ducked her head again.

“This is what I wanted to tell you about,” Scarlett explained, placing a dainty hand on Tom’s forearm, “Elliott is an old friend of mine. She's occupying the guest room next to yours.” Tom’s eyebrows rose in interest. Elliott mistook it as surprise.

“I won’t even be there that often, so it shouldn’t be an issue,” Elliott added quickly, “I’m really quiet---”

“It’s completely fine,” Tom assured her, making a slashing motion with hand. “I’ll only be here until I find a flat, anyway.”

This response seemed to satisfy Scarlett, who exhaled as if she had been holding her breath for the past minute. “It’s all set,” she stated, hands clasped. Her face then split into an ecstatic grin before she exclaimed, “You guys are going to be Downstairs Buddies!”

Elliott rolled her turbulent green eyes affectionately. “You make us sound like we’re sorority sisters.” Her gaze flicked up to Tom briefly.

“I do love a good slumber party,” Tom offered jokingly, eliciting a scoff and another almost-smile from Elliott. Tom grinned, the skin around his eyes crinkling: Progress.