Summary: Two of your best friends are getting married and you have the honor of singing at their wedding. At the reception you’re approached by a famous friend of the groom, Tom Hiddleston. Much polite flirting ensues. Will there be more to come? (That’s not a rhetorical question, I’m honestly asking for your input about whether I should write more.)
A/N: This is my first RPF. I missed writing WAY more than I thought I would, but life had me completely inundated and unable to do anything but get through what I needed to everyday. I missed my Tumblr family, I missed creative thinking, and I hope this lives up to what you’ve come to expect and like from me. Thank you in advance for your time and kindness. Constructive, kind feedback is ALWAYS welcome.
Oh, and endless thanks to @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan for just being there whenever I call. She’s too good for words. Well, my words, anyway.
“Excuse me, but would you care to dance?”
You were fully engrossed in the game you were playing with the ring bearer, flower girl, and other assorted guests’ children and hadn’t bothered to turn at the sound of the voice. By the time you felt the gentle but noticeable tap on your shoulder, you had long-stopped wondering who had asked.
“Excuse me? I’m sorry to bother you, but - “
“5-4-3-2-1 Ready or not here I come!” You slowly and dramatically turned towards the giggles and titters of little voices, slid your hands down over your closed eyes, and widened your stance to catch the little buggers. As you opened your eyes to scan the room and made unconvincing assertions of how quickly you’d win, you barely caught yourself from plowing into the tall, lanky man who did not try in the least to conceal a smirk.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Did I bump into you?” Your momentary distress quickly morphed into nervous laughter as you realized with whom the gods had chosen for you to cross paths with.
“Nope, not even a little. I’m the one who should apologize to you, as I’ve clearly interrupted a highly competitive game of hide-and-seek.” You snickered and shrugged your shoulders as the back of your dress and each of your hands were unceremoniously yanked by little people who had yet to learn that patience is a virtue. Maybe that’s why you enjoyed being around children so much - you hadn’t learned that particular lesson yet, either.
You mouthed “sorry” as you turned your head away, and saw him shake his head, appearing to chuckle as he took off his glasses to clean them. As he turned towards the other guests, you fell back into the seedy underworld of high-stakes hide-and-seek, but you weren’t likely to forget that moment any time soon.
Tom Hiddleston had just asked you to dance.
As the night wore on, you lost the company of your young compatriots as their parents collected their offspring, thanked you profusely, and carried them off. You were grateful to return to the grown-up world and quickly sought out the bar. As you sipped on the best gin-and-tonic you’d ever had, the newlyweds and some members of the bridal party found their way over and a chorus of memories, laughter, and challenges rose up.
“C’mon, please?!??! You can’t say no to us tonight, we’re protected under the “we just got married” statute. Please????” The drunk pleading by the newly Marrieds almost made you snort Bombay Sapphire out of your nose.
“You’d better be grateful that I’m in such a good mood. Give me a minute to go over and introduce myself then I guess I’ll make sure I’m not held in custody on the ‘You Said No To The Marrieds’ statute.”
After a few minutes of getting redirected at each attempt to get away, you took the microphone and cleared your throat.
“Excuse me, folks. I know you may have had your fill of my singing voice after the wedding today, but I’ve been asked by the newlyweds to close out the night by singing one of their favorite songs, which to be honest, is also one of mine. I’m told that I cannot deny this request, as it is part of the canon of newly-married law, and since both of them are lawyers, I guess I have to comply.” As the pianist started the intro, you closed your eyes and swayed. This one earned you lots of applause (and much-needed gigs) in college, and the words poured out without thought.
The very thought of you and I forget to do
The little ordinary things that everyone ought to do
I'm living in a kind of daydream, I'm happy as a king
And foolish though it may seem to me that's everything
The mere idea of you, the longing here for you
You'll never know how slow the moments go till I'm near to you
I see your face in every flower, your eyes in stars above
It's just the thought of you, the very thought of you, my love
When the last notes faded along with your voice, the remaining guests whistled and cheered. Your blush quickly faded as your best friends, including the bride and groom, tackle-hugged you and walked you off the stage in a laughing huddle. You thanked every person that was kind enough to compliment you, and smiled dreamily as you saw the unmistakable frame of the famous actor in the room talking with your best friends.
As he saw you approach, his smile widened and The Marrieds followed his gaze to you. He excused himself, gesturing “one minute” while he visited the bar, and quickly returned on his trajectory to you, now with a bottle of water in his hands. It seemed to roll off his impossibly-long fingers while his other hand gently encircled your wrist. You were feeling the effects of the performance high, your drinks, and the long happy day at the same time, which loosened your tongue.
“Thank you very much. I know etiquette requires me to sip daintily, so you'll need to forgive me while I down this in a less-than-ladylike way. Please don’t tell my mother.” His laugh was a rolling baritone, easy and well-practiced, accompanied by eye contact that would usually make you turn away from its intensity.
You checked him out as you tried not to gulp. Thankfully you didn’t choke or need the Heimlich because drinking bought you a minute to wonder what in the hell Tom Hiddleston wanted with you. Was he trying to return something you dropped? Was he going to compliment your singing? You weren’t quite drunk enough to ask outright, so you capped the plastic bottle and smiled.
“Thank you, that hit the spot. It was nice meeting you, but I think I’m going to head back….” His smile dimmed a bit as he recognized your attempt to leave. Reaching out, he quickly spoke over you so you wouldn’t end the sentence.
“Ummmm, no.”
Awkward silence. Crickets.
“Excuse me?” Tentacles of weirdness raced up your spine. Sweat formed on the back of your neck as you formulated your escape plan.
His nervous laughter caught your attention. “I mean, yes, it’s nice to meet you, too and you’re welcome, but….”
Your eyes followed his as they cast downward and then popped back up with a shyer, smaller smile. “I’d hoped you’d have a dance with me.”
Cue full-on tipsy giggles. “I’d love to, but it seems the band is packing up.”
He let your wrists gently drop and practically leapt over to the bandstand. After a few minutes of bowed heads, covert pointing, and close talking, he returned with the smile you’d seen projected on a 50-foot screen. With a short bow, he held out his hand.
“Problem solved. Now, if you would be so kind as to dance with me?”
You put your hand in his as he led you to the nearby dance floor. You remained completely clueless as to what alternate universe you had fallen into. Maybe you were dreaming. You’d have to pinch yourself to find out, but Tom didn’t give you the time.
He pulled you closer, placed one hand respectfully on your thicker-than-average waist, and, taking your right hand in his left, placed it on his chest. You looked up and could not hold back soft laughter. He quietly asked what you were thinking.
The band was doing a sweet rendition of “Wonderful Tonight,” and you hummed along. As he turned you slowly, the distance between you lessened.
“Nothing, just having a wonderfully unexpected dance with a world-renowned actor. It’s how I normally spend my Saturday nights.” He leaned back to make eye contact, smiled, and returned to twirling. His hand had worked its way further around your waist and your hand that was not on his chest had moved to cup the back of his neck. As the last twangy notes played, you tried to pull away, to quickly gloss over any awkward goodbyes, but he held fast.
“I sound like a broken record, but thank you.” His face quickly changed from dreamy to serious, which was disconcerting.
“What?” Your face belied your urgency to cut to the chase and say goodnight.
He stepped back and moved his hands to your wrists, his light touch giving you goosebumps.
“I’m curious - why do you keep trying to leave? Have I offended you somehow?” His eyes locked on yours, a sincerely curious look on his face.
“No, of course not, but I figured you needed to go and I didn’t want to make anything awkward. I avoid awkward at all costs.”
“If anything, leaving would be bittersweet. I was hoping you’d have a drink with me so we wouldn’t have to broach that subject yet.”
Your neutral expression masked your shock. It was a practiced response after years of suppressing laughter when your students did something hilariously inappropriate. He didn’t press, didn’t ask again, didn’t change his mind. He simply waited and looked, bringing front and center how uncomfortable it made you to be seen.
“Let me freshen up, and I’ll meet you in the bar downstairs in 20 minutes or so?” You giggled, again, as he bowed and kissed your hand, taking your leave and saying goodnight to other guests.
You started to sober up as you took the elevator to your room, took a shower and threw on the outfit you wore to the bachelorette party 3 nights earlier, thanking God you had sent it out to be cleaned. By the time you made your way downstairs, you felt more like yourself, more in control, less starstruck.
You smiled tiredly as he stood to greet you, offering you the outside seat on the banquette. It was late enough that you didn’t need to shout, and you had just the right amount of attention from the waiter and bartender, without attracting fans. You shared your plan to stay in the area for two more weeks, visiting friends and seeing the sights, while he mentioned he was going to be in town for a few days, as well.
You sipped on a delicious champagne Tom suggested and asked him something that had run in and out of your mind since the days of your high school obsession with Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables.
“Tell me how you split yourself between the real you and the part you’re playing. I’d guess that every part you play contains some small piece of you, but how do you reconcile that with being “just you,” being the person that your family and dearest friends know? Is it difficult to become someone else and then return to everyday life?”
He listened, smiled softly, and sighed. “You’ve just asked the same question that was posed to the very first people to pretend in front of others.” He went on to explain about the psychological work he has done and still does to prepare for roles, the time it takes to transition back and forth between roles and real life, and some funny stories about times when he’s mixed up the two with memorable results.
The familiar chuckle snapped you out of your reverie. You saw his loose curls move side to side and wondered why he had stopped talking, then realized you’d yawned several times in a row. “I’m sorry, I heard what you said, but I think your voice lulled me into another state of consciousness. It’s very soothing.”
His smile was bright, but tired. “Are you saying I put you to sleep? Guess I’m not as captivating as I’ve been led to believe.” He cut off your attempt to explain. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been going on but you’ve struck the mother lode - asking an actor about how they prepare psychologically for their life’s work is a question worthy of a monologue. Didn’t mean to hypnotize you.”
He silently covered your hands with his as you brought out your wallet to pay for your drinks. “Please, let me. I invited you, remember?” Your nod was followed by evidence of your stubbornness. “Thank you, I’ll just leave a tip, then.” He stood as you did, steadying you while you took your leave.
“Thank you for the dance, and the drink, and the conversation, Tom. It made this gorgeous day even better.” You kissed his cheek, noticing he closed his eyes while you did.
“Thank you, as well. Tonight was an unexpected delight. Would it be alright if I asked to see you again?”
What's a Queen without her King??? If you asked him he would say still a Queen. If someone can see the royalty in you but you can't then its really time to wake up. #TheWholeQuarter #richinmelanin #Plusisze #Plussizebaddie #Queen (at Hillside, New Jersey)
