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This is fast becoming Tom’s favourite time of the day: evening, sometimes even stupid o’clock in the middle of the night when he should be sleeping but is talking to Hanna instead.
He misses her. It’s almost a physical pain, hidden deep somewhere in his body, making it hard to breathe freely and sleep peacefully.
She’s four months into her pregnancy now, starting to show and not vomiting so much anymore. God, how he wishes he could have stayed with her. But there’s shooting to be done, promotion to be finished. His costars are teasing him mercilessly about messaging Hanna so much, about sharing weird pregnancy facts even with those not concerned, about asking fathers random questions regarding things he might have to face soon.
With an eager smile, Tom fires up his iMac and opens Skype. He readjusts the camera, and his whole world rights himself when Hanna’s face appears at last.
She looks tired, dark circles under her eyes, face a bit swollen. But her smile is brighter than the moon and the sun together.
“Hey, love.” Tom beams at her, then grabs his latest acquisition and holds it in front of the camera. “Look what I found.”
It’s a book he’s somehow managed to read in between make-up and food, titled 1001 Things It Means To Be A Dad.
When he lowers it, he can see Hanna roll her eyes at him, and that simple gesture is so right that it only makes him even happier.
She misses him. God, Hanna can’t even explain how much she misses Tom.
It’s not like he’s never been away before. Hell, he’s been away so many times she can’t count.
But it’s been hard. She’s been sick basically the whole time and as much as she already loves that little peanut growing inside of her, she’s already had enough.
She feels bloated whenever she’s not sick and she’s hungry whenever she’s not sick. But she’s sick a lot. She’s tired because her belly starts to grow and she’s uncomfortable and she just wants to cuddle up to Tom.
Tom who’s smiling at her from the other side of the screen, the other side of the word really. She should tell him what happened that day. But she’s afraid to, because she knows his smile would fade and it really wasn’t that bad.
It just hurts a little now. “Hey, Tom. So. What does it mean? Enlighten me.” She teases him, but goodness she’s so happy he’s content.
Hanna seems a little fidgety, shifting as if trying to get comfortable. Almost as if she’s already much further along and sporting the belly of a whale.
Oh, how he wants to be there, physically. Really snuggle with her. Massage her feet or rub her aching head. Run to the store at midnight because she’s suddenly craving something or other.
His smile wavers a little, but he puts more effort into it because his smile always makes her happier and helps her relax somewhat.
“Well, love, it means I’ll be the best father ever. Certainly a much better father than Odin. Or Hank, for that matter.”
That makes her chuckle tiredly. “Tom, I don’t think you need books to be a good father.”
This time, his smile comes automatically, along with a slight blush. “That’s a lovely thing to say, Han. Thank you. I’m terrified though.”
She raises her brows. “Hiddleston, you do know you’re not the one who’ll go into labour, right?”
It’s his turn to chuckle. “But I will, in a way. It’ll be excruciatingly painful to watch you in pain.”
She grows sober at that, but her eyes shine with love. “You’ll be there when the date draws near, won’t you?”
Tom swallows hard. Hanna is a fiercely independent woman, and he suspects she could handle about everything. She hardly ever asks him for anything, although he kows she permits herself to be softer and more open with him. And he would give her the world if he could–though that’s probably the wrong phrase to describe this because she IS his world.
“I promise. No matter what.”
The silence between them is heavy with things to think about and things not said, so he flashes her a somewhat strained grin.
“Darling, did you know that 1 out of 2000 babies is born with a tooth?”
Her chuckle seems a little more forced this time, but it’s still there. “I didn’t know that.”
“It’s true, I’ve read it just yesterday.” He’s beaming at her now, hoping to distract her from any negative thought she could have while he’s not there to help her coping. “I bet the little one will have two.”
The eye roll is still there, just the grin needs a little bit to form, but when it does she shines. “Of course they’ll have.”
“Peanut is just that special. I’m sorry I’ll miss the next scan.” He really is. He wants to be there for everything but Tom also knows that production can’t stop for every soon-to-be father.
“It’s okay, I’ve told you. Plus, I’ve got pictures from the last one.”
Tom furrows his brows. He was there at the last one. “I know. I’ve seen it live. Han?” Some very strange feeling is mixing with the happiness to see her. Especially when her grin fades and she nibbles on her lower lip instead.
“Ha! Pregnancy brain. Totally forgot that.”
Tom props his chin on his hand and frowns at the screen.
“Han, are you really okay?” He suddenly feels so panicky that he doesn’t even give her time to answer, bombarding her with questions instead. “Have you been vomiting excessively again? Doesn’t the ginger tea help anymore? Are you eating enough and avoiding all the food the doctor advised you against? Have you signed up for that yoga course yet? Do you have everything you need? Can I…”
Tom stops when he hears Hanna groan. He half expects her to press a hand to her mouth and make a dash for the loo or to grimace in pain, but she just glares at him.
“Tom, will you be asking me whether you should breathe for me next? I’m pregnant, not fatally injured or incurably sick.”
Her voice rises, and Tom snaps his mouth shut and nods. It takes effort to search for and find that smile again, but he manages.
“Sorry, love. You know I’m worrying my head off all the time.”
This time, she sighs. “Yeah, I do. And I never complain about your hourly messages and sometimes utterly ridiculous, if well-meant, suggestions, do I?”
He shakes his head, crining a little. Okay, maybe he IS taking things a bit too far. But how’s he supposed to take care of her and peanut and not go crazy at the other end of the world?!
“You…you would tell me if something was really wrong, wouldn’t you?” he asks, a bit afraid he’ll get snapped at again. Those pregnancy hormones are the most unpredictable thing on the planet, it seems to him.
He tries to hide it, but Hanna can see and hear the worry in his voice and on his face. Great, now she feels bad for snapping at him.
She knows he wants to be there for everything and she also wants him in London, but she does get hourly texts and sometimes she feels like he knows more about her body than she does.
She tries to glare a little less. Hanna also doesn’t want to lie to him. So, maybe if she phrases it a little different?
“If I thought that there was something really wrong, I would tell you. Of course I would.” There. She doesn’t think there’s something wrong. “And I’m sorry for snapping at you. I guess.”
She looks at him with what she hopes is an ensuring smile. Tom’s face doesn’t change though. “Now stop looking at me as if someone’s died.”
Whoops, that might have been the wrong choice of words. Now Tom just looks even more serious and worried. Hanna almost cringes but instead takes a sip of broth, which is sometimes the only fluid she feels like drinking.
“Han…you’re kind of different today.” Again, he says it slowly, as if he’s picking his words and aiming for whatever will offend her least.
Yikes. Of course, he’s too observant to miss the little details. It’s something inherently Tom anyway, to watch and notice and analyse–and worry. And it’s gotten a lot worse ever since her pregnancy test was positive. It’s a little terrifying because she has no idea whether he’s going to smother her with attention and anxiety once the baby is here. But truth be told, it’s also a little gratifying to know she means so much to him and to rely on him having her back even if he’s miles and miles away.
Even if he can’t literally catch her if she falls.
“Han?”
She blinks. “Did you ask me something, Tom?”
Hanna can almost hear him school his features so he doesn’t scowl again.
“Yes, actually. Did you go clothes shopping this morning as you’d planned to?”
Now it’s Hanna’s turn to school her features. Yes, she did. Just not as she planned to. She didn’t quite make it there. So, how to tell him without lying, or having him fly over immediately?
“I did go, yes,” she simply replies. “But I didn’t find anything there.”
Tom’s brows shoot up. “Nothing?”
Hanna shakes her head, pouting a bit. “Absolutely nothing. I’ll just go another time. I can still fit in my sweatpants.” She tries to make it light, but isn’t quite sure if she succeeds. Her husband is the actor in this relationship.
He still doesn’t look convinced. Damn it. Damn him and his stupid senses.
He’s worrying too much, isn’t he?
Tom deliberately gives them both a tiny break by scooting back against the headboard of the bed to sit more comfortably, taking his iMac with him. He can see it in her face–he thinks–that he’s getting on her nerves whenever he goes a bit overboard with caring.
But he can’t help it. It’s like a weird sixth sense, a niggling feeling that something isn’t quite as it should be. And frankly, it freaks him out. But if he freaks out, that’ll in turn freak Hanna out. And that’s the last thing he wants.
Rubbing his slightly scruffy chin, Tom tries another smile.
“Sweatpants truly are every man and woman’s best friend, aren’t they?” He wriggles, lifts his butt off the bed awkwardly and manipulates the laptop so the camera points down. “See, I’m also relying on them, those trusted allies.” So what if that sort of gives her an eyeful of his thigh and crotch in sweatpants–maybe getting her hot and bothered will help?
She is getting hot and bothered. But only a little. There are so many things happening inside her body, it’s quite difficult for her to manage.
Right now she’s sad again and really needs to try not to cry. She’s smiling though. A little. “Well, you always know how to get me, don’t you?”
She loves how Tom always tries to make her feel better and make her smile. But she’s been scared today and still shaky even though nothing happened.
“Works better if your naked though.” Hanna tries a wink but she’s not as sultry as she would like. “Or if I’m naked.”
“Now you’re talking!” Tom gives her a saucy wink too, scrunching up his face in that adorable way he has where his whole body seems to be in on the winking.
He leans closer to the camera, and the full force of his gaze hits her, making her squirm a bit. “Would you like that? I know we haven’t yet tried…you know…” Now he’s blushing like a schoolboy and she is caught between suppressing an “aaawww” and an eye-roll.
“Since when are you so shy?” she asks, not really having the strength for another wink or even some flirtatious pouting.
Tom sobers up immediately, which is a surprise. “Since I’m not sure about your boundaries anymore.”
Welp. There he goes again, being all earnest and loving and solemn. It’s so like him to want her but at the same time be cautious. So like him to understand that her body doesn’t feel quite hers, that her emotions aren’t quite what they used to be such a short yet seemingly long time ago.
“Han?”
“Mhm?”
“If you…want me, I’m game. I could just…uh…give you a show if you’re not up for more. Or you could touch yourself while I talk to you? If you…that is…if you even feel like it.”
She kind of wants to try…and kind of doesn’t. Plus, shedding her clothes isn’t a good idea today. Not when there are bruises to hide.
“I could maybe…watch? I’m… I’m sorry, I’m kind of tired.” Seeing his face fall makes her almost retread.
“Oh. Well, that’s okay of course.” Tom rights the Mac and sits up properly.
Oh course it’s okay, but Hanna still feels bad. “Maybe tomorrow? When I’m not…” She almost blurts out just how sore she is. “…tired,” Hanna finishes.
“Sure. Anything to make you feel good.” There’s that stupid wink again, just with less enthusiasm.
Just in that moment it happens. A slight itch on her hip, Hanna wants to scratch before she forgets the bruised skin.
She winces and hopes to god that there’s a miracle and Tom didn’t see it.
“Speaking of which… Maybe you’d just like to lie down? I could sing for you. A purely selfish suggestion, obviously because-”
Wait a minute. Tom shoots upright, pausing mid-sentence. Something his brain processed automatically is sinking in.
Oh my god, was that..?!
“Hanna?”
Yeah, he must be right. She looks as guilty as a puppy caught chewing on your favourite shoe.
“Hanna, tell me that was a trick of the light or something. Is that…is that really a bruise on your hip?”
Her lower lip starts quivering, and Tom’s heart gives a mighty thump before seemingly dropping all the way to the floor.
Who does he have to kill? When does the next flight to London leave? WHY HASN’T SHE TOLD HIM?
He wasn’t supposed to know. That’s all Hanna can think about while she’s panicking. He really wasn’t. That bruise and the other one were supposed to heal and never talked about.
Oh goodness, he’s called her by her full name, hasn’t he?
“Stay calm, please,” she begins but can barely get the ‘please’ out before Tom interrupts.
“Calm?! I can’t… how… your hip is bruised! How the fuck did that happen? Is Peanut alright, how long are you running around like that? And why the fuck didn’t you tell me?! I would have come. What… What if…”
He shouts. Well, sometimes he shouts, sometimes he whispers during his little outburst and that’s exactly what Hanna wanted to avoid. And now she feels guilty and she can feel the first tears starting to spill over.
“Don’t shout, please,” she whispers and she can see Tom’s body shaking and him fidgeting as if the words want out but he restrains himself physically. His mouth is shut and his jaw clenched and he’s not blinking.
Hanna sighs, “I fell this morning.”
It’s scary. Even blinking back tears, she can see all the colour draining from Tom’s face. He simply sits there for a long moment, tense and silent, his eyes somehow turning dark and hurt and frightened.
If he were acting right now, she’d hand over all the awards. But he isn’t, and that’s why it’s scary.
Hanan supresses a sniffle. She knew this would happen. That doesn’t make it any easier. Nope, not at all.
“You…fell.” It isn’t even a question, just a croak. She sees a muscle tick in Tom’s jaw, and in a way, she wishes he’d return to shouting. This silent, stern, shocked Tom is worse.
“Did someone push you, Hanna?” Argh, and now there’s carefully controlled anger in there, making his voice deep yet quivering.
She breaks eye contact to wipe away a tear, which makes Tom flinch.
“No. Please don’t freak out. It’s not half as bad as it seems. It’s just some stupid small bruises. I…”
“Bruises?” he interrupts her, his voice rising a little. “As in more than one? God dammit, Hanna, what the hell happened? Don’t I have a fucking right to know? Did you at least see the doctor?”
“Of COURSE I did, Tom,” she answers, voice a little louder now as well. “I may be alone here, but I do know that when I fall on my side and it hurts and there is a little bit of spotting after, I should go and see my doctor.”
She’s not stupid. She knows Tom is scared. By the looks of it he’s horrified, but she was scared as well. It was a stupid accident on the way for clothes shopping.
“Spotting?!” It seems like that’s the only word Tom got from that sentence.
“Yes. A little bit. Which is common anyway and doesn’t have to be because of the fall. I wanted to cross the street, there was a bicyclist and I slipped when I wanted to go out of the way. And then I went to the doctor.”
He doesn’t say anything, just kind if stares at Hanna. She knew this would happen. She’s surprised Tom is still sitting there on his bed, (kind of) talking to her.
“Everything is fine, Tom. They made a scan, checked the heartbeat, checked me. Peanut’s safe in there.”
He’s still not talking. Weird how that is almost scarier than the fall, which did give her a huge spook.
“Show me.” His voice is back to carefully controlled and vibrating with tension. Uh-oh.
She knows the anger isn’t directed at her. She’s knows it’s actually not even anger, just panic mixed with too much worry and regrets that he wasn’t there. But part of her wants to shout at him that she’s had enough worrying for a day and would like a break.
Silently, Hanna lifts the sweater to show him the bruise on her hip that he only glimpsed before, then pushes up her sleeve to show the one on her upper arm. It looks nastier than it is, will probably look even worse tomorrow when her skins goes through all the colours of the rainbow.
Tom stares and stares, his throat working.
And then he slumps forward and buries his face in his hands with a strangled groan.
Tom feels like he’s the one who’s taken the fall. Sitting in front of his laptop and hearing the sniffles through the speakers, he sits with his eyes closed and everything hurts.
His body is so tense that even being such a non-violent person as he is, he wants to hit something. Then he’d have a matching bruise.
But he saw how scared Hanna looked and him hitting something would only make that worse.
And it’s bad enough that he wasn’t there for her. He should be in London, he would have caught her when she stumbled and he didn’t. He couldn’t because he’s making a stupid movie in a stupid city that isn’t London.
And he’s left Hanna alone. And peanut. The first time his baby needed him Tom wasn’t there. Hanna didn’t even tell him.
“Tom?” he hears tentatively from the laptop.
He groans again, but looks up from his hands to see Hanna staring back at him while worrying her lip.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Hanna? I could be on my way to London right now,” he asks, head resting on his hands again.
Tom knows she’s strong, but damn, there are two people in this relationship and he should very well be there for her. Hell, she should give him the chance to be there.
“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
Tom’s head snaps up again and he stares at Hanna. “What do you mean?”
It’s her turn to groan, and can see she’s still crying a little, which makes him hurt everywhere, especially inside.
“I knew you’d take this too seriously and jump on the next plane. And I don’t want that.” She makes a frustrated sound and holds up her hands when he wants to protest. “Tom, really. I mean, I do want you by my side. But it’s not fair. Not to you and not to the people who rely on you. You love your hjob, you’re at the height of your career. I don’t want you to throw it all away because of this. I’m pregnant, not disabled or in a coma or whatever. I can handle this.”
The urge to hit something is even bigger now. Preferably his head against the wall. Tom grits his teeth so hard it hurts, then speaks in as calm a voice as he can manage–which probably isn’t very calm.
“Hanna, you’re the most important thing in my life.” Why is she crying harder now, dammit? “You and peanut are my life. I don’t care whether I’ll never get a role again or can’t film for a bit. I care much more about you. Fuck, just imagining you going through that alone, scared at the doctor’s while you were waiting for an okay… It kills me to know you’re hurting and I can’t be there.”
Now she’s sobbing. Shit, shit, shit.
“Tom, I love you. So much. But don’t do this to me.”
“Do what?!” He rakes his hand through his hair, tugging. “I’m not doing anything, and that’s exactly the problem. I’m in this godforsaken country prancing around in a costume while you’re dealing with all kinds of trouble alone. While our baby might be at risk. What kind of awful father and husband am I?”
“Don’t make me feel guilty. Not more than I already do.”
Tom stops the bashing he took on himself for a moment to stare at her. “What?” See, he should be there for her to make sure she doesn’t feel guilty about any of this. It wasn’t her fault. It’s all those stupid bicyclists.
She still hasn’t stopped sobbing, which makes it a little difficult for Tom to understand her next words. “Don’t make me feel guilty, please.”
Nope, still the same words from before. “But this isn’t your fault, Han. The accident, me not being there; it’s all not your fault.”
“I stole the internet’s boyfriend, Tom.”
Wait, what? His confusion must be written all over his face. “What the hell does that mean?” He even forgets berating himself for a moment before the panic sets back in. Maybe she’s hit her head?
She sighs as if it’s the most ridiculous thing to ask, but he really doesn’t care at the moment.
“When we’ve met, you were the internet’s boyfriend. You know that. And then we were a couple. And god I love your fans, but some of them treated you like their boyfriend. They still do. I get edited out of pictures. And soon there’ll be a baby to edit out as well. Please don’t make me the one who kept you from doing movies.”
He’s stunned. He stares at her and has no idea what to say. That’s how she’s feeling right now? Guilty?
If Hanna wasn’t feeling like shit right now, she would laugh at his face. He looks as if he’s just told him they found out the earth is indeed flat and not round.
“What?!” he repeats, and she has suddenly, most decidedly, had enough of it all.
“Oh, don’t be so naive, Thomas! You know you’re an amazing actor. You were born to be one. Acting is in your blood. If you gave it up for me–for us–you wouldn’t be hapy for long. And I want to be the last person responsible for making you happy. As if that’s isn’t enough pressure already, there are your thousands of dedicated fans all across the globe, some of them a bit too obsessed with you. They’d hate my guts, and I can live with that. But I don’t want to live with disappointing so many peole–you included, once you are all tied down and realize family life isn’t as fulfilling as you had imagined it.”
Tom is slowly shaking his head, and she has no idea whether it’s because he disagrees or because he doesn’t understand. It takes him half an eternity to speak.
“But Han, how can you think like that? You don’t live your life to fulfil other people’s expectations. Sure, I have a commitment to what I’m doing and to those who support me. And you know I love my fans dearly. But we can’t let them decide how we live our lives. You need me. How can I not be there for you?”
“Ugh, well how about that: Maybe I do not need you.”
Great, now he looks even more shocked, as if she’s reached out through the screen to club him over the head.
“I… What?!” Tom knows he isn’t the most articulated person at the moment but right now it feels like nothing makes sense anyway.
“I could easily have this child alone, Tom. I could even live a happy life and not having met you all those years ago.”
Well, this night surely isn’t created to boost his ego, that’s for sure.
But before he can argue, Hanna interrupts. “I’d be happy and I don’t need anyone for that. But I don’t want that. I chose to be with you and I’ll continue to do so. I want you. Do I want you here? Yes, all the time, please. But I know it’s not always possible. And I much rather make you happy doing what you love and not be here from time to time than needing you and make both of us miserable.”
She takes a deep breath in the end and sniffles.
“Han, I… But I need you. Both of you. More than fans and more than movies.”
How can she love him so much yet at the same time want to kill him? It shouldn’t surprise her, she’s felt like that before. But these days she’s feeling everything stronger and all at once, and it’s driving her stir crazy.
“Oh, Tom… I know. I get that. But…but that’s not how relationships work most of the time, is it? That’s not how life works. It’s all about…I don’t know, compromises and sacrifices and choices. And we agreed in the beginning that you will never give up your career for my sake, and that we will never let it ruin this marriage either. Please don’t go back on that promise, not because you feel helpless or hurt or angry now. You and I should be stronger than that. You are there for me, even if it’s not physically.”
With a sniffle of his own, Tom reaches out and presses his hand to the screen.
“I’m just so fucking scared, Han.” His voice is a broken whisper that is a million times worse than vomiting for hours or falling today.
“I can’t lose you or peanut. I can’t.”
It’s the cheesiest thing to do and Hanna’s always rolled her eyes at couple who do this in movies, but at the moment she doesn’t care for that.
Instead she holds her own hand against the screen, opposite from Tom.
“I know. And you won’t. I’m sorry for scaring you. Peanut is fine. And if it was anything less than fine, I’d call you.”
“Promise me.” He looks at her so scared and panicked that Hanna can’t even make a joke about it.
“I promise.”
He sighs. “Thank you. I’m still scared though.” He takes a shaky breath and closes his eyes for a moment, still connected to Hanna through the monitor. While he collects himself, Hanna wipes a few tears away with her sleeve.
“I was too,” she admits and continues hastily before Tom can come to conclusions again. “I’ve called your mum and told her, but made her promise not to call you. I’ll drive over there over the weekend because I made her promise me.”
He chuckles a tiny bit at that. “Can I see?”
“See what? I’ve just shown you and it wasn’t the best idea we ever had.”
He even rolls his eyes at her now and Hanna’s heart does a quick little jump. “The scans. Can I please see the scans and your belly to see that everything’s fine?”
How does he do that? Infuriate her one moment and then make her heart want to burst with love the next moment?
“Yes, you can, Mr. Hiddleston.” She chooses her words deliberately and gets exactly the reaction she wants from Tom.
His eyes light up and a brow rises. “Can I, Mrs. Hiddleston?”
Her heart does that quick little jump again. She shifts to rummage in the drawer and pulls out the scans, holding them in front of the camera. It stills feels weird–and incredibly moving–to see peanut like this, to know she really carries a miniature Tom-and-Hanna inside her.
The look on Tom’s face is priceless. She’s pretty sure she could live off that look, wouldn’t even need water or food. Just this mix of wonder, love and fierce tenderness that only someone with a face–and eyes–as expressive as Tom’s can pull off.
Throat tight again, though now for an entirely different reason, Hanna lifts the shirt to show her small bump. Tom’s fingers twitch and clench as if he wants to touch it.
“Hey there, little peanut. I’m sorry for the scare today. Your mommy won’t let anything happen to you, don’t worry. Neither will your daddy.”
Great, now she’s crying again…but also smiling.
“He’s outgrowig his nickname, you know?” she whisers, laying a protective hand over her belly.
“Or she is outgrowing her nickname, you know?” Tom teases. It’s too early to know yet, but he’s so sure it’s going to be a girl. He can just see mini-Hanna running around, staring at him with those big eyes, that make him melt whenever he looks at his wife.
The wife who seems well enough to roll her still glistening eyes at him. “I know it’s “him”. I tell you all the time and you refuse to believe me.“
“Because you’re wrong.”
She glares at him though Tom can see she doesn’t mean it. With those hormones he may just be two minutes away from a real glare.
“So. Since she’s getting bigger… What should we call her then?”
“Well, we can come up with different fruits and vegetables. Or we find him a real name.” She’s still showing her belly and Tom wants to see that smile on her face forever. It’s a different smile from the ones he gets. He’s absolutely in love with it.
“I guess we shouldn’t call her London. Or Frankfurt.” He winks at Hanna when she pokes out her tongue at him. “How about Lokina? Or Thorella?”
She gapes at him, then shakes her head. “That sounds…horrible. Would make you a crueller father than Odin.”
“Well, technically, Odin wasn’t…”
“Nope, Tom. Not another 3-hour discussion of whatever Asgardian head canons you’ve come up with.”
Tom wants to take offense at that, but he shuts up and grins instead. “How about Rainbow Aurora, maybe with Unicorm as an added middle name?”
“That is SO not a real name.”
“Is too.” His grin turns smug. I may have goggled the weirdest child names in a free moment.”
She’s still shaking her head, but thankfully also still smiling. “Won’t do at all. How about Christopher Christian Chris? You know, so we can pay homage to all the Chris’s.”
Tom does an exaggarated version of his Loki facepalm.
Hanna ignores him of course. “Or or or! Wait! Adalbert.” Now it’s her turn to be smug.
“Why would we do that?”
“Because it’s German.” She scrunches up her nose a bit. “I think.”
Tom turns triumphant. “See! You don’t even know that. Plus, it’s a really terrible name for a girl.”
During their discussion Hanna has sat herself on the chair again, now sipping some of the broth again, that helps but she slowly can’t stand him anymore.
“It’ll be a boy so it doesn’t matter. We can call him little devil.”
Tom’s gaze turns soft. “She’s giving you a hard time, isn’t she? Our little Chestnut Sunflower Hiddleston.”
Hanna almost chokes on her sip of broth. “Christ, are you planning to release a hippie into the world?”
His chuckle almost makes her feel better. “I’m not planning anything, sadly. But I know you and I will be releasing a wonderful person into this world. Someone special. With your soulful eyes and stubborn streak. Your smart brain and sassy mouth. Your admirable strength and wacky sense of humoour.”
“There’s nothing wacky about my sense of humour. You’re the one with the horrible puns.” She wants to feel indignant, but Tom makes it so hard to be mad at him.
A twinge makes her flinch and shift on her chair, and Tom goes from goofy yet adoring to concerned so fast it gives her whiplash.
“Han, if you’d rather rest, we can postpone the silly name-searching. Would you like to lie dow so I can talk you to sleep?”
She pouts adorably Tom thinks. “I don’t want to sleep, I want to talk to you.”
“I’m just looking out for you. You must be tired, Han.” She sure looks like it. She’s a little pale, and now that Tom knows of the injuries he can see her shifting to lift the weight from her bruised hip. He’s not going to tell her that.
“I’m okay, Tom.” She shifts again and Tom knows why she only protested against his discribtion of her humour. She does have a stubborn streak. And she knows it.
“Okay, fine. You’ve got another name?” He gives her about five minutes until her first yawn.
“Heribert.”
“You’re not giving birth to an 80 year old.”
She’s sticking her tongue out at him again. “We can always do it Beckham style and name him after the place he was conceived,” she then grins.
Yes, she is tired, but she’s also kind of intent on dragging out whatever few happy moments she can get, so Hanna stifles a yawn. And she also stifles a cackle when Tom blushes as prettily as a maiden before laughing his adorably embarrassed “ehehehe”.
“Dear god, Han, let’s never mention that, shall we?”
“Oh, but why not?” She tries to flutter her lashes innocently, but all it does it make her sleepy. “Limousine Hiddleston has a nice melodic ring to it.”
With a groan, Tom facepalms again. He mumbles from between his fingers, “You’ll never let me off the hook on that one, will you? I guess I’ll just have to promise you that for the next child we’ll plan things through. I’ll decorate the bed with roses and take you vanilla style and refrain from all cursing, so that Hiddleston volume 2 is conceived with blessings from above and in an apropriate situation.”
It sends her off into a round of laughter, and she doesn’t even mind the extra twinge of pain much.
But then her tired brain really processes all he’s said. Part of it wants to drag her into the past and dwell on their secret make-out session in the limo that still gets her all hot and bothered–and that got her pregnant. Another part is awed by the fact that Tom is already mentioning more children, albeit in a joke. And she’s even more awed by that fact that she can totally imagine it and it doesn’t seem as nightmarish as it may sound. Still…
“Let’s not get too eager there, Thomas. Hiddleston volume 1 hasn’t even popped out yet, and he’s already a load of trouble.”
He gives her a sheepish grin. “Taking after his father, I presume?”
“Well, he needs to have some of your traits,” Hanna quips, and Tom is sure he’s even content if little peanut looks and acts nothing like him, as long as he can recognise Hanna in them.
“She does, doesn’t she?”
They stop talking for a moment until Hanna can’t hold back a yawn anymore. She takes another sip of her drink and looks at Tom, almost defiantly.
“I need to finish my broth first.”
Tom can’t hold back his laughter. “You are a stubborn one, aren’t you?”
She sobers up a little. “I just need a little calm and quiet talking right now.”
He can feel his face soften and he knows he must look a little lovesick right now. “Let me talk you to sleep then.”
Hanna takes yet another sip, wondering how she could have gone from being aroused as hell by Tom’s voice to needing it to lull her to sleep.
Pregnancy hormones really are weird… She’s read that some women have an increased libido. When can it be her turn? She just wants to have him next to her again. On top of her. Inside her. Heck, even over the phone like once or via Skype as Tom suggested. But right now, arousal is about as far away as a hike up the Himalaya.
“Talk dirty to me then, husband.” She’s almost too tired to get the softly mocking tone right or wiggle her brows.
Tom goes off into another round of slightly emberrassed “ehehehe”.
“Oh, I would if I could, my pretty pet; I’d whisper the naughtiest things to get my little wife wet,” he then half-growls in his Loki voice.
Yay, that was definitelya a tingle of awareness combined with goosebumps. But it’s followed by a yawn, and Tom’s features soften again into that heartbreakingly tender expression that always makes her want to send a prayer of thanks upwards because it’s meant only for her.
“Get comfy, love. I know just what to recite to help you sleep.”
Hanna downs the rest of her broth, winces when she gets up, and transfers herself and the laptop to the bed that feels so empty without Tom.
She lies down, placing the laptop so she can still see Tom. It takes a bit of shifting and hissing to get comfortable with her bruised hip, and Tom’s face is a mirroring mask of pain.
“All settled, Han?”
“Yup. And Tom?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
There’s that devastatingly beautiful smile again. “I love you too, Han. Always and forever. Now hush.”
And Hanna take a deep breath and listens to Tom softly recite the poem “To Sleep” by William Wordsworth, her eyes slowly drifting shut.