So, I’m at Tom’s house, and he’s going on for the bajillionth time about how good the chocolate mousse is on set of The Musketeers, and I’m trying to ignore him.
"It’s the sort of mousse you’d want to take out for dinner first before you just delved face first into it," he says, wistfully. I shoot him a look of abject confusion.
"You can’t go down on a mousse, Tom."
"You’re only saying that because you’ve never tried," he says, nonchalantly. I gasp so loudly at this point that I start blushing and I don’t even know why because he said the rude thing and he should blush more than me. He has more freckles for one thing.
"I wish your full name was Thomas so I could sound more disapproving right now," I tell him, trying to look disparaging and probably only succeeding in looking gormless.
"It gets lonely on set," he says, as if that makes everything okay. I frown.
"Not that bloody lonely!"
"Anyway, what I’m trying to say to you, young lady, is this - you should learn to make chocolate mousse for me," he says, grinning happily at me as I walk into the pantry to get a new box of tea bags. I pick up a box of Yorkshire Tea before turning back to look at him. His eyes are gleaming with mischief and he’s doing that naughty smirk at me and I have by now genuinely forgotten what day it is.
"Why would I want to make you chocolate mousse?" I ask, not unreasonably. He runs his hand through his hair as he takes a few steps closer to me and suddenly my hands feel numb. In fact, the only thing that my brain can actually comprehend at that moment is the presence of Tom Burke. Nothing else even enters into my mind until I hear a gentle ‘click’ behind him. "What was that?" I ask, even though I already know the answer due to the fact that the entire pantry is in complete darkness.
"I might’ve shut the door," Tom says, his tone so guilty that I almost feel sorry for him.
"I can’t, I can’t see, wait, hang on, let me see if I can feel…. oh dear."
"Oh dear? Oh dear doesn’t sound good," I say, not even bothered about how panicky I sound.
"I think the handle’s on the outside of the door," he says, quietly.
"You mean… we’re stuck in here?" I ask, my eyes still not getting accustomed to the dark but very aware of the fact I can feel him breathing on my neck.
"I suppose the makers of the door didn’t expect idiots to lock themselves in the pantry," he says with an embarrassed chuckle. I can’t help but laugh.
"They clearly didn’t reckon on you, The Mousseketeer himself!"
"It wasn’t all my fault!" he says, the protestation cracking his voice slightly. I know he won’t see me raise my eyebrow but I do it anyway.
"It’s your fault, you distracted me," he says. Fortunately it’s still so dark he can’t see how much I’m blushing although frankly he can probably feel the heat radiating from my face.
"One has to have a talent," I tell him, loftily. Suddenly I realise that he’s not so much stood by me but he’s actually so close I can feel how itchy his cardigan is against my arms.
"What’s your talent?" he asks, barely above a whisper, leaning in so close to me that I can feel his beard tickling my face.
I place my hands gently on his chest and push him back against the door. My right hand slides down and across until I find what I’m looking for and I grin triumphantly. With one deft flick of the wrist, I open the door and we both tumble out onto the kitchen floor.
"Finding door handles in the dark," I reply with a giggle.
pixelskylines
stormborns
