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cit_hiddleston[Takes place at a European premiere of Tom's film Crimson Peak.]
"Hey!" Chris wraps his arms around Tom, pulling him in for a hug and squeezing the hell out of him. "That was brilliant. You were brilliant." They haven't seen each other in months but they've kept in touch by text, sending each other stupid jokes and anything else that takes their fancy.
"Stop, you'll make me blush." Tom's a little breathless, as he often is during a Hemsworth-Grade Hug(tm). "I had no idea you'd be here--this is a terribly pleasant surprise."
"I didn't either, but my agent let me know you had this going on," Chris grins, "and I sweet-talked my way in."
"That's wonderful. Thank you for coming." As though Tom hosted the premiere in his living room. He reaches out to take his drink when a server brings it to him. "Busy as you seem to be, it means even more that you came."
"Like I'd miss the opportunity to see you when I could," Chris points out, taking a beer from the server's tray. "I may be busy but I'm not that busy." He smiles. "How are things?" The noise of the room more than enough to cover for anything they might say.
"Things are..." Tom thinks about that for a moment. "Things? I mean, professionally, wonderful. Personally, rather stale, except for..." One-handed (and thank goodness for long, nimble fingers), he fishes out his mobile, plays with it for a moment while grinning, then shows Chris a picture of a small grey cat. "Look how big Astrid is now."
She still looks like the tiny kitten she was after Tom found her in a hedge. But Tom still looks utterly proud of what must amount to a weight gain of little more than a kilogram.
Chris grins. "She looks great." She's not that much bigger but he can tell she's filled out some and she looks about as happy as a cat can look. "I thought you were seeing someone?"
"Oh, well..." Tom's face falls a little. "Things are... complicated, I suppose. At the risk of sounding like bloody Facebook."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Chris says, reaching out to touch Tom's shoulder. Offer whatever comfort he can. "You guys seemed made for each other."
"I thought so," said Tom, smiling and patting Chris's hand. "I've had a crush on him since I was a teenager, after all. We just... can't seem to stay in the same place for long enough."
"And long distance isn't an option?" Chris asks, hurting for his friend. He'd thought for sure they'd make it and he can't help but think of all the time he and Henry have spent apart.
"It was supposed to be," says Tom. He actually looks down and scuffs his toe on the floor. "When--if--we can get the chance to see each other, it's as though we've never been apart. But when we are..." He sighs and looks up and puts on his Very Brave Smile. "How are things for you, though?"
Chris hesitates. Crowing about his own happiness when Tom's having such a rough time... But he knows he'd want to hear about things if their places were reversed. "Good. Really good," he says with a nod. "We bought the ranch, got some horses for it, took a couple of months out to just chill."
A very big smile crosses Tom's face. "That's wonderful," he says. "I'm so pleased for you. It must be lovely." He pauses a moment, then puts his hand on Chris's bicep, still smiling, and says from between his teeth, "I've been sleeping with an ex, because why not?" And then, even as his face turns about four different shades of red, he suddenly looks deeply and thoroughly relaxed, like admitting this deep secret has taken a thousand pounds off his shoulders.
Chris grins. "Do I know this ex?" he murmurs back, the very soul of discretion.
The smile doesn't slip from Tom's face, but the colour is spreading up to his hairline, down to his chin, and out to both ears. "The ex."
"Seriously?" Chris's grin deepens. "Good for you." He'll never really get Tom's penchant for older men but even he can appreciate Sir Ken's appeal.
Tom looks relieved all over again. "Thank God, I thought you might feel the need to take me into a corner and scold me."
"I could spank you if you'd like," Chris quips. Quietly, but still. Eyes sparkling with mischief.
Tom huffs, good-naturedly. "Ken and I are still working on that," he said.
"Good," Chris grins. "I suspect Henry would have something to say if I actually meant it."
"And I wouldn't want to upset him--which I mean in all honesty." Tom smiles. "Yours is the type of bliss I wouldn't want to disrupt."
"You should come visit us at the ranch when you get some time," Chris offers. "We have horses and Henry loves having guests."
"That would be lovely," says Tom. His smile falters a little. "I imagine Robert could get a filthy joke out of that..."
"I bet he could," Chris says, feeling the urge to touch Tom again. Just... comfort him. "What are you doing after this?" he asks, redirecting once more. "More parties or back to the hotel or...?"
"Back to the hotel, I think," says Tom. "I'm tired. I just hope I can make a quiet exit without anyone noticing me. Smuggle myself out, as it were."
"I think we're at the same hotel if you want to sneak out," Chris offers. "Share a car. We can grab a quick drink in the bar and then loudly go our separate ways."
Tom looks--gazes, really--at Chris for a moment with all his affection written on his face. "You always know exactly what to say. That's perfect."
Chris smiles. He glances around, his height letting him get a decent lay of the room, noting that barely anyone's watching them right now. "Over there," he says, with an almost imperceptible jerk of his head. "To the right behind you, there's another exit. I'll have my car brought around," he adds, pulling out his cellphone and sending a quick text. "You head over first. I'll join you in five."
Tom's gratitude is plain as day on his face. He takes a step back, sets his glass down, and makes his way outside. He takes a deep breath of the night air, resists the urge to check his phone, and glances over his shoulder when Chris joins him. "I can't help but feel as though someone's going to be cross with me for escaping."
"Let them be. You were there long enough," Chris says, opening the back door for Tom when the car pulls up. "Life's too short to be doing stuff you don't want to be."
"You may have a point." Tom climbs into the back seat. When Chris joins him, he grins wryly and adds, "I just have a hard time, on occasion, not doing precisely what someone tells me I need to or should do."
"Henry's like that too," Chris says, shaking his head with a smile. "Must be something about English parents," he teases.
Tom laughs. "Perhaps that's just it. And in my case, possibly having two older sisters, too."
"Me and my brothers just beat the crap out of each other," Chris grins, laughing as well. "Whoever won, we did what they said. Lucky for me I came out on top most of the time."
"My sisters are older than me," says Tom, shaking his head. "There was only ever one of me. If things ever got out of hand, they would just hold me down and tickle me until I cried." He pauses, then looks across at Chris. "Not that I ever actually cried. I would never."
"You sure about that?" Chris teases, tickling Tom's ribs.
Tom at least has the dignity not to squeak or squeal or shriek, but he does press himself up against the car door. "Yes, I'm quite sure."
"Oh, now how I did I not know about this?" Chris says, eyes sparkling with full-on mischief as he makes to pounce once more, clearly teasing as he never actually touches Tom this time, fingers wiggling wildly.
Tom swats at Chris's hands, deliberately not making any contact. "Keep away from me, you madman."
Chris laughs but he sits back, hands dropped, grinning at Tom. "You shouldn't have give me such ammunition," he warns.
Tom lets out a huge, dramatic sigh. "I know, I know--what was I thinking?" He looks at Chris again, and grins. "But that few seconds was more fun than I was actually having at the party, I must say."
"Now that, mate, is really sad," Chris says, laughing again but he's grinning and he nudges his shoulder against Tom's. "We really need to get you out more. Either that or tie you up and tickle you silly."
"I hate to say it, but all of the above might be true," says Tom, wrinkling his nose.
"Have things really been that bad?" Chris asks, watching Tom, his demeanour a little more serious now.
Tom hesitates. When he says "No," it almost sounds more like a question than a firm answer.
Chris stares at Tom for a long moment. "Where are you headed to next? What have they got planned for you?"
"Oh, more promotion, more filming. I get to head back to London for a while, though. I'll spend some time with Ken. He'll let me, ah, let go for a while."
Chris smiles. "Okay, because otherwise I was plotting to kidnap you and force you to come surfing with me," he says as the car stops outside their hotel.
"You keep threatening to do that, and I keep wondering if it's legal for pale, skinny Englishmen to surf." Tom laughs as he gets out of the car before Chris can respond.
"I'm sure it is," Chris responds anyway as they make their way into the lobby. "But seriously, say the word and I'll whisk you away," he promises.
"I'll let you know, I promise." Tom stretches his arms over his head with a little groan. It's nice to be away from prying eyes, somewhere a little quieter. "So now what?" he asks.
"Up to you," Chris says with a smile. "The bar's over there or we can grab a bottle and head for my room."
Tom thinks about this for a moment, then smiles. "Don't you still owe me my dignity back from our last game of cards?"
"That I do," Chris grins. "Stay right there," he tells Tom, disappearing into the bar for a moment before he returns with a fresh deck of cards and a bottle of Scotch. "Fourth floor, mate. You'd better let me have your room number so I can wheel you in there later."
"Hey!" Chris wraps his arms around Tom, pulling him in for a hug and squeezing the hell out of him. "That was brilliant. You were brilliant." They haven't seen each other in months but they've kept in touch by text, sending each other stupid jokes and anything else that takes their fancy.
"Stop, you'll make me blush." Tom's a little breathless, as he often is during a Hemsworth-Grade Hug(tm). "I had no idea you'd be here--this is a terribly pleasant surprise."
"I didn't either, but my agent let me know you had this going on," Chris grins, "and I sweet-talked my way in."
"That's wonderful. Thank you for coming." As though Tom hosted the premiere in his living room. He reaches out to take his drink when a server brings it to him. "Busy as you seem to be, it means even more that you came."
"Like I'd miss the opportunity to see you when I could," Chris points out, taking a beer from the server's tray. "I may be busy but I'm not that busy." He smiles. "How are things?" The noise of the room more than enough to cover for anything they might say.
"Things are..." Tom thinks about that for a moment. "Things? I mean, professionally, wonderful. Personally, rather stale, except for..." One-handed (and thank goodness for long, nimble fingers), he fishes out his mobile, plays with it for a moment while grinning, then shows Chris a picture of a small grey cat. "Look how big Astrid is now."
She still looks like the tiny kitten she was after Tom found her in a hedge. But Tom still looks utterly proud of what must amount to a weight gain of little more than a kilogram.
Chris grins. "She looks great." She's not that much bigger but he can tell she's filled out some and she looks about as happy as a cat can look. "I thought you were seeing someone?"
"Oh, well..." Tom's face falls a little. "Things are... complicated, I suppose. At the risk of sounding like bloody Facebook."
"I'm sorry to hear that," Chris says, reaching out to touch Tom's shoulder. Offer whatever comfort he can. "You guys seemed made for each other."
"I thought so," said Tom, smiling and patting Chris's hand. "I've had a crush on him since I was a teenager, after all. We just... can't seem to stay in the same place for long enough."
"And long distance isn't an option?" Chris asks, hurting for his friend. He'd thought for sure they'd make it and he can't help but think of all the time he and Henry have spent apart.
"It was supposed to be," says Tom. He actually looks down and scuffs his toe on the floor. "When--if--we can get the chance to see each other, it's as though we've never been apart. But when we are..." He sighs and looks up and puts on his Very Brave Smile. "How are things for you, though?"
Chris hesitates. Crowing about his own happiness when Tom's having such a rough time... But he knows he'd want to hear about things if their places were reversed. "Good. Really good," he says with a nod. "We bought the ranch, got some horses for it, took a couple of months out to just chill."
A very big smile crosses Tom's face. "That's wonderful," he says. "I'm so pleased for you. It must be lovely." He pauses a moment, then puts his hand on Chris's bicep, still smiling, and says from between his teeth, "I've been sleeping with an ex, because why not?" And then, even as his face turns about four different shades of red, he suddenly looks deeply and thoroughly relaxed, like admitting this deep secret has taken a thousand pounds off his shoulders.
Chris grins. "Do I know this ex?" he murmurs back, the very soul of discretion.
The smile doesn't slip from Tom's face, but the colour is spreading up to his hairline, down to his chin, and out to both ears. "The ex."
"Seriously?" Chris's grin deepens. "Good for you." He'll never really get Tom's penchant for older men but even he can appreciate Sir Ken's appeal.
Tom looks relieved all over again. "Thank God, I thought you might feel the need to take me into a corner and scold me."
"I could spank you if you'd like," Chris quips. Quietly, but still. Eyes sparkling with mischief.
Tom huffs, good-naturedly. "Ken and I are still working on that," he said.
"Good," Chris grins. "I suspect Henry would have something to say if I actually meant it."
"And I wouldn't want to upset him--which I mean in all honesty." Tom smiles. "Yours is the type of bliss I wouldn't want to disrupt."
"You should come visit us at the ranch when you get some time," Chris offers. "We have horses and Henry loves having guests."
"That would be lovely," says Tom. His smile falters a little. "I imagine Robert could get a filthy joke out of that..."
"I bet he could," Chris says, feeling the urge to touch Tom again. Just... comfort him. "What are you doing after this?" he asks, redirecting once more. "More parties or back to the hotel or...?"
"Back to the hotel, I think," says Tom. "I'm tired. I just hope I can make a quiet exit without anyone noticing me. Smuggle myself out, as it were."
"I think we're at the same hotel if you want to sneak out," Chris offers. "Share a car. We can grab a quick drink in the bar and then loudly go our separate ways."
Tom looks--gazes, really--at Chris for a moment with all his affection written on his face. "You always know exactly what to say. That's perfect."
Chris smiles. He glances around, his height letting him get a decent lay of the room, noting that barely anyone's watching them right now. "Over there," he says, with an almost imperceptible jerk of his head. "To the right behind you, there's another exit. I'll have my car brought around," he adds, pulling out his cellphone and sending a quick text. "You head over first. I'll join you in five."
Tom's gratitude is plain as day on his face. He takes a step back, sets his glass down, and makes his way outside. He takes a deep breath of the night air, resists the urge to check his phone, and glances over his shoulder when Chris joins him. "I can't help but feel as though someone's going to be cross with me for escaping."
"Let them be. You were there long enough," Chris says, opening the back door for Tom when the car pulls up. "Life's too short to be doing stuff you don't want to be."
"You may have a point." Tom climbs into the back seat. When Chris joins him, he grins wryly and adds, "I just have a hard time, on occasion, not doing precisely what someone tells me I need to or should do."
"Henry's like that too," Chris says, shaking his head with a smile. "Must be something about English parents," he teases.
Tom laughs. "Perhaps that's just it. And in my case, possibly having two older sisters, too."
"Me and my brothers just beat the crap out of each other," Chris grins, laughing as well. "Whoever won, we did what they said. Lucky for me I came out on top most of the time."
"My sisters are older than me," says Tom, shaking his head. "There was only ever one of me. If things ever got out of hand, they would just hold me down and tickle me until I cried." He pauses, then looks across at Chris. "Not that I ever actually cried. I would never."
"You sure about that?" Chris teases, tickling Tom's ribs.
Tom at least has the dignity not to squeak or squeal or shriek, but he does press himself up against the car door. "Yes, I'm quite sure."
"Oh, now how I did I not know about this?" Chris says, eyes sparkling with full-on mischief as he makes to pounce once more, clearly teasing as he never actually touches Tom this time, fingers wiggling wildly.
Tom swats at Chris's hands, deliberately not making any contact. "Keep away from me, you madman."
Chris laughs but he sits back, hands dropped, grinning at Tom. "You shouldn't have give me such ammunition," he warns.
Tom lets out a huge, dramatic sigh. "I know, I know--what was I thinking?" He looks at Chris again, and grins. "But that few seconds was more fun than I was actually having at the party, I must say."
"Now that, mate, is really sad," Chris says, laughing again but he's grinning and he nudges his shoulder against Tom's. "We really need to get you out more. Either that or tie you up and tickle you silly."
"I hate to say it, but all of the above might be true," says Tom, wrinkling his nose.
"Have things really been that bad?" Chris asks, watching Tom, his demeanour a little more serious now.
Tom hesitates. When he says "No," it almost sounds more like a question than a firm answer.
Chris stares at Tom for a long moment. "Where are you headed to next? What have they got planned for you?"
"Oh, more promotion, more filming. I get to head back to London for a while, though. I'll spend some time with Ken. He'll let me, ah, let go for a while."
Chris smiles. "Okay, because otherwise I was plotting to kidnap you and force you to come surfing with me," he says as the car stops outside their hotel.
"You keep threatening to do that, and I keep wondering if it's legal for pale, skinny Englishmen to surf." Tom laughs as he gets out of the car before Chris can respond.
"I'm sure it is," Chris responds anyway as they make their way into the lobby. "But seriously, say the word and I'll whisk you away," he promises.
"I'll let you know, I promise." Tom stretches his arms over his head with a little groan. It's nice to be away from prying eyes, somewhere a little quieter. "So now what?" he asks.
"Up to you," Chris says with a smile. "The bar's over there or we can grab a bottle and head for my room."
Tom thinks about this for a moment, then smiles. "Don't you still owe me my dignity back from our last game of cards?"
"That I do," Chris grins. "Stay right there," he tells Tom, disappearing into the bar for a moment before he returns with a fresh deck of cards and a bottle of Scotch. "Fourth floor, mate. You'd better let me have your room number so I can wheel you in there later."
