You are my favourite song - Tom Hiddleston fanfic ✓

Chapter 2 - Two Loki's

Tumble outta bed and I stumble to the kitchen
Pour myself a cup of ambition
Yawn and stretch and try to come to life
Jump in the shower and the blood starts pumpin'
Out on the street the traffic starts jumpin'
With folks like me on the job from 9 to 5

(9 to 5 - Dolly Parton)

While I am in Mr. Hiddleston's dressing room, doing some last check ups on the costumes we'll be needing today, I find my mind wandering to last night. Will and I had a fight again. I can't even remember what started it this time, probably something small. We seem to be getting on each others nerves for the littlest of things the past few months. He accuses me of being distant and cold, but he is the one who is constantly checking his phone or who goes out in the evenings, even in the middle of the week. Paul suggested Will might be cheating on me, something I thought of too. It would explain why we haven't had sex in over five months. But then again, sitting next to a guy who is glued to his phone all evening isn't getting me in the mood either. I'm probably as much to blame for the absence of an active sex life, it's not like I'm trying my best to seduce him.

One of my assistants, Avery, is popping his head around the door. "I think the overcoat for Mr. Damon is misplaced," he says hesitantly.
"Yes, here it is." I hold up the hanger for him and his face instantly shows relief. "That's what you get when there are two persons playing the same character."

Avery scurries off with the used-to-be-missing overcoat and I shake my head and shoulders to expel my negative thoughts from a few moments earlier. Mr. Hiddleston can be here any moment to get dressed. Sure enough, the door opens again and a tall man walks in, just ending a conversation he had with someone in the hall. It's Loki, with his dark manes and pale face, but wearing jeans and a grey zipped hoodie. He gives me a very un-Loki-like smile and holds out his hand. "Good morning, my name is Tom!"
I shake his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Hiddleston, my name is Victoria Kelly, I'll be in charge of dressing you for this production."
"Nice to meet you too, Victoria. Please, call me Tom," he says, showing me his dazzling smile again. "I don't think we have met before, do we?"
"No," I shake my head. "I had to fill in for a colleague before, so your fitting was done by Mrs. Rubeo."
"I already thought so, I would have remembered meeting you before." Again that big smile that makes his face light up.

I blink, not knowing what to make of this comment. Is he coming on to me in the first minute of meeting me? That doesn't fit the description of his character, or does it? I actually wouldn't mind a bit of attention from him: tall, handsome, British, what is not to like? But the actor has already walked past me to the rack of clothes standing in the back of the room. He is browsing through the hangers and then turns back to me. "So, let's begin. How far do you want me to strip down?"
His face is not showing any signs of mischief, so he is asking me a serious question. "You can keep your boxers on," I tell him. "The rest will have to go."
He nods and starts undressing, while I grab the clothes we'll need for the scenes of today. When he chucks his shoes, I tell him he can keep his socks on if he wants. "We'll not be seeing those anyway."
"I never keep my socks on, darling," he answers and this time there is a tiny sparkle in his eyes. But then his face splits open in a wide grin. "Ehehehe!"
I chuckle and hand him the dark leather breeches of his costume. I think me and Mr. Hiddleston will get along fine.

He needs a little hand with the top part of his costume, which is a combination of supple leather and a knitted green fabric. He obediently stoops down a little so I can get the ends of his long wig out of the way. I breathe in the familiar smell of makeup and a faint whiff of aftershave. "I'll take the overcoat to the set, Mr. Hiddleston, you can put it on there," I tell him while adjusting his sleeves a little.
"It's Tom," he says and looks from his hoodie to his leather sleeves, frowning. "I don't think I can fit those in there."
"Sure you can. We'll just do it little kids style." And I tell him to grab hold of his sleeves with his hands while I shrug his hoodie over his shoulders. I have to stand on my toes a little to properly do it, Tom is really tall. It's a tight fit, but it helps to keep him a little warmer without having to grab the big blankets we otherwise use.
"Ehehehe, it looks like you've got experience with that."
"I've got a three year old at home," I answer and look him up and down. "You're good to go, Tom. I'll take the overcoat, like I said." If he insists on calling him Tom, I'll happily oblige. It would have slipped out anyway, it's kind of hard to keep calling people 'sir' and 'madam' when you've seen them in their undies.