Tom Hiddleston Oneshots

Play It Again

He was nearly asleep when his phone vibrating on the nightstand pulled him back to full consciousness. Checking the caller id before decided whether or not to answer it, he sat up and answered the phone.

"Tom?" Her quiet voice said on the other line.

"Yeah," he said wiping his face with his free hand. "What's up?"

"I know it's late," she started and he could practically see her trying to think of what to say next. "But would it be okay if I came over?"

He sat a bit straighter. "Of course. Is everything alright?"
"Yes, I just need someone to talk to. There are some things weighing on my mind and you're the only one I can come to. I'll be over in a minute."

The line went dead and all he could do was get out bed and start some water for tea. If she was wanting to talk they'd need some tea. By the time she got here the water would be boiling and he would make her tea just the way she liked it: two spoons of sugar and a splash of milk.

He didn't hear her come in which means she must've used the key he gave her once when he went away. When she went to give it back he had told her to keep it. "Just in case," he said. One look at her told him everything he needed to know. She was upset. Her eyes were wide and her face blank like she was lost. He could bet any amount of money that it was a guy.

Some guy had hurt her again. She was in a vicious cycle of picking up guys, them taking whatever is they wanted whether it be sex, money, or time, and then dumping her.

It just left a trail of tears that lead back to him. He had been her friend far longer than any of those guys had been around. He would always be there for her when those things happened, but it didn't make it any easier to see her this way.

He handed her the cup and followed her to the sofa where she sat cross-legged. He watched her take the first sip and then sigh like she was relieved.

"You know how I like it," she told him.
"Two sugars and a splash of milk," he recited. "So what's wrong?"

She hung her head for a moment before giving it a little shake and then looked back up at him. "Why do I always pick the losers? I mean-am I that stupid?"
"You're not stupid." They'd had this conversation in many different forms, many different times.

"Well I let them in, don't I? I allow them to come in and take whatever they want and then they leave and I'm left with nothing." She was crying now. The tears just streamed down her face and he knew what kind of cry this was. This was a desperation cry. She was really breaking down. "And then between what my mum says and my sister..."

"You know they're wrong. They're not even around," he assured her.
"They say it's my fault."
His voice came out clear and firm. "It is not your fault."
They sat in silence for a moment before she laid her head on his shoulder. "Could you play me that song?"

"Which song?" he asked even though he knew exactly what she was going to say.
"The song you wrote about the girl who doesn't know how much you love her," she whispered.
He didn't have to say anything, he just got up and grabbed the guitar propped up in the corner. He would play it sometimes when he was bored.

He wasn't really good, but the song she was referring to wasn't even a song at all. It was just some chords he strummed that he thought sounded good and a poem he wrote a long time ago. He would just read the poem along with the strumming.

He started playing it when he heard her say something she had never said before. Maybe he wasn't meant to hear it, but he did.

"I'd like to think that there's someone out there who might love me like that," she said laying down on the couch. He didn't even care. He would stay up all night playing those same four chords over and over again until his fingers were numb. She made it easy for him to do, but in that moment he realized he couldn't lie anymore. He stopped playing and went back to her and then took her in his arms.

"I've got to tell you the truth. The song-the song is about you. Don't be with those assholes anymore. I wrote that a long time ago, but my feelings are the same. I can't believe you never put it together."
She looked confused at first and he thought she might laugh in his face, but she didn't.

She pressed her forehead to his and then her lips to his own. The kiss was soft and quick, but it said everything that they couldn't. "Play it again," she breathed.