Tom Hiddleston Oneshots

Things You've Said

Tom's P.O.V.

"My Thomas," (Y/N) whispered on a sigh, her fingers tracing the length of my nose. My wife had been awake for some time already, I could feel the excitement grow in her with each passing moment.

Her joie de vivre felt infectious, but I wasn't ready to join the land of the living after my first night in my own bed with my wife in too long.

I moaned and pressed the bulk of her into me as I sank further into the bed.

"You awake?"

No, I didn't want to be, not quite yet. Too much life to return to; family, mail to sort, phone calls to return, my next travel plans to make. Life. I wished to stay in bed with (Y/N) and just be left alone, to be a regular bloke, instead of this professional actor stuff.

"Thomas," her wistful yearning - God, I did adore her voice, her words and I longed to hear them. She hummed, assuming I still slept. "I love you, and even when you're not around I still feel you around me. That's how much I love you."

The pads of her fingers continued their slow track framing my face, reacquainting herself with my features, the deeper laugh lines, the grown-in stubble, my lips. She touched them all, giving each feature her attention.

"Your family will be here soon, your mum, your sisters, your nieces, your brother-in-law. Luke said he'd stop in. We're all so proud of you, you know. What you've done. What you're doing. We're all behind you." An early morning pep talk. It was a comfort that I needed to hear from her, a fact that she was aware of.

My doubts and insecurities always came for a visit when I returned home after months away. My confidence waned in the private with (Y/N). 

I let her see the questions that floated above my head. Was I selfish is seeking out this life? Did I abandon her and the rest of my family for my own advancement? How much sacrifice would I have to make for this career?

(Y/N) and I talked everyday by phone while we were apart and I got the standard: "You're doing great!" or "I'm so proud of you!" I didn't doubt that she meant them then, but in the quiet of our bedroom, in her presence, it held more truth, simply because it was just us two.

"I'm behind you, my beautiful man," and her murmur turned serious, heartfelt.

"We've been married almost a year and spent more time apart than together in the last ten months? But I love my life. I love being the one you come to when you're cranky and ready to knock the next interviewers, when you're excited about how this appearance went, when you miss home, when you experienced some new things, like having a picnic in LA or being the only English person in a room of Southerners..."

(Y/N) attempted the Southern accent, and it ended up sounding more Australian than deep American South. It took some effort not to smile, not to give in to a chuckle and let her know that I was actually awake.

"I'm ready, Thomas," she whispered and certainty, a subtle determination. "I'm ready, my beautiful man, for our life to start together, our family."

The impact of it, the enormity of her confession, her sincerity, her honesty robbed me of breath for a few moments as I absorbed it. (Y/N) and I only ever hinted or talked abstractly about starting our family and having kids. During the busy first year of marriage, not a day went by that I didn't think of having a child with her.

I wanted that for us.

(Y/N) got up from the bed, slipping from my arms languidly to leave me to rest like she knew I needed.

I don't know why I pretended to sleep and allow her to leave the sanctuary of our bed. But my mind was a whirl of counting months, mentally checking schedules, plans, timing. In the end, it didn't matter. All I wanted was (Y/N), our future children, and everything else faded into background noise.