What's Past is Prologue (A Tom Hiddleston Fanfiction)

Chapter Two

 As soon as the lights came up for intermission, I felt an elbow lightly jab my shoulder.

 "So, what do you think?" Tom asked. "Is it everything you hoped for so far?"

 I sighed as a dumb grin came over my face.. "It's... wonderful."

 He smiled. "I'm glad you're enjoying it. I'd hate to see someone travel so far only to be disappointed."

 "The acting is amazing! And the direction... ah!" I had forgotten how to speak I was so moved.  "I love how they did that first scene on the ship."

 From behind me, I heard an unfamiliar male voice chime in. "Well, I'm happy to hear that at least one person in this theater is enjoying our hard work."  I turned to see a middle-aged man with light, wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses now sitting in the seat next to me.  The old woman must've gone to the bathroom.  Or she really hated the play.  Either way, I was hoping she wouldn't come back so I didn't have to get around her again.

 Tom reached past me and stuck his hand out to the man. "Donald! Great show. So glad I could make it."

 "Tom. So Glad you could make it as well. Maybe you could give a few tips to these new actors, eh? I'm sure most of them could benefit from your advice."

 The men were having a conversation and I was awkwardly stuck in the middle.  Leaning back as far as I could, I tried and failed to tune them out by pretending to read the playbill.  Why would this man, apparently called Donald, want Tom's advice? Was he a theatre critic or something? Yes, that could be where I had seen his face. On an online review of the play, maybe.

 After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Donald then turned his attention to me.  "And this exquisite creature must be your date. Lucky man." He grabbed my hand while I sat there in shock.  He had thrown out that compliment so simply.  I liked him.

 "Jeez. Thank you. Though I'm not sure I'm deserving of such high praise," I said quickly. "But we're not..." I gestured between myself and Tom, "We aren't together."

 "No, but you're right Donald," Tom looked me right in the eye before continuing, "I am a lucky man." I felt my face instantly turn red and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.  Never once had a man made me feel so gorgeous.  I suppose that's why my latest relationship had just ended.

 "That you are, Tom. How did you manage to find a break to come visit us here in Stratford with such a busy schedule? I'm assuming you're in the middle of a press tour?" Ah, so maybe not a critic then.

 "Yeah. I've got a couple weeks off and then I've got to get back to the states. It's been fun, but it's nice to get away from the chaos for a bit."

 "I bet," Donald replied before a small lull in the conversation.

 "Oh, I am so sorry," Tom said, as if he suddenly remembered something. "I never introduced you. Ellie, this is Donald Stieveson. The director of this play."

 I couldn't believe my luck. It was never a dream of mine to meet him, in fact, I had never heard of Donald Stieveson in my life.  But how did I end up sitting next to an attractive English man who knew the director of the play we were there to see?  And, from what I had been hearing, Tom was something of a star himself.

 "Oh, wow. The play is amazing. You've done a great job." I felt like those words weren't enough, but I wasn't prepared to meet the director tonight.

 "Actually, Donald," Tom continued, "Before you arrived, Ellie here was just saying how much she hated the themes you decided to emphasize." My mouth dropped and Tom laughed.

 "That is such a lie! I said nothing of the sort." I hit Tom in the shoulder as he grabbed his stomach in laughter. "I promise you, Mr. Stiveson, he is lying."

 "Oh, I have no doubt. He is an actor after all. And please, call me Donald."

 So, Tom was an actor. And apparently he was a good one, or at least he had been in a big movie if he was on such a busy press junket. I racked my brain trying to recall if I had seen him in anything lately, though I had only seen a few films within the last year.  My ex was never big on going to the movies.

 Tom put a large hand on my bare knee and my mind went blank.  "I'm sorry, Ellie," he said, still laughing.  "But your face was priceless."

 "You little... liar."

 Tom and Donald spoke for the rest of the intermission, occasionally asking my thoughts on some Shakespearean subjects even though I clearly didn't know as much as they did.  Soon, the lights went down and the play started again.  From the corner of my eye, I would occasionally see Tom looking at me, judging my reaction.  It made me feel a little silly, but not because I thought it was creepy.  I just wasn't used to someone with as strong eye contact as his.  Honestly, in only the couple hours that I had known him, he never looked away while I was talking. He was completely absorbed in whatever I said, even if it was just me rambling on about how much I loved the play.

 As we walked out into the dark streets of Stratford, Tom spoke up.

 "Where are you staying?"

 "The Falcon Inn."

 "Do you mind if I walk you back?" He could sense my hesitancy and quickly added, "You can make your argument against colonialism as we walk."

 I smiled. "I figured you forgot about that."

 He shook his head. "No, of course not. I've been looking forward to it since you mentioned it. So may I walk with you to the inn?"

 I don't know if it was the fact that Tom seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say, or if it was just nice to talk to someone again, but I found myself nodding to the near stranger.

 By the time we came in view of the inn, I had only just started my argument against colonialism.  Tom had only interrupted once or twice to make points that I quickly refuted.  It actually sounded like I knew what I was talking about.

 "So, anyway," I said, "That's the start of it. I have more to say on the subject, but I think I'll spare you and just say goodnight." I took a backwards step toward the door of the inn, still facing Tom.

 "Oh, but I'd love to hear the rest." He took a step in my direction. "You're making me rethink everything I know on Shakespeare."

 "I highly doubt that, Mr. Big-Time Actor." I laughed, but Tom looked confused and even a little bit... hurt.

 He stepped back and spoke softly. "So, you do know who I am?"

 I tried to read his expression.  He must have thought I was lying to him the whole night. "No, I just... put it all together. Mr. Stieveson, Donald, he said you should give advice to the actors and then he called you an actor." His face was still the same, so I continued. "You said you had been around the world on a press tour... Sorry. I didn't mean to listen in," I mumbled quickly, feeling my face turn bright red, "but you guys were talking right in front of me and I-"

 I was cut off by Tom's loud, boisterous laugh.  Now it was my turn to look lost.

 "What's so funny?" I asked.

 "You," he said simply.

 Well, at least he wasn't mad at me, but I still didn't find the hilarity in anything I said.

 Once he'd calmed down, Tom looked at the Giggling Squid across the street. "Would you like to get a drink with me?" he asked.

 Again, I didn't know what it was that made me say yes; maybe it was his smile or the way he was looking at me so intently unlike anyone had ever looked at me before, but I knew I wanted to keep this night going, even if I was still scratching my head about what just happened.

 "I would love to. And not just because I still have some ranting to do regarding The Tempest, but I've also been meaning to try the Giggling Squid."

 Before I knew what was happening, Tom placed his hand on the small of my back and started leading us across the street. "Dinner it is."