Chapter Text
“Jamie, bitte, could you eat a little faster?” Her son gives her a look that could challenge one of his father’s when he’s being stubborn.
Han tries to suppress an eye roll and succeeds enough to not anger her two-year old. He’s eating peas and mashed potatoes, and by the concentration shown on his face you could almost think it’s a science.
She knows why he’s doing it though. Jamie knows that after dinner it’s time for a bath and then a story and bed. And his father’s late. Again. It’s not his fault, really. But Han can see how excited Tom gets, filming this new thriller of his. And how excited he is to work with Emma Watson. And sometimes shooting does take a little longer. Well. More than “sometimes”.
Han sighs and readjusts Vicky in her arms, holding the bottle of milk for her.
It’s not like she’s not happy for Tom. Working on something he loves and has fun with. It’s just that… her days are mostly not that exciting and yes, she feels a little left out.
When the front door opens and closes, Jamie picks up immediately and all Han can do is shout an, “Erst aufessen!” (Eat up first!), but Jamie’s already off his little chair, running towards the hall. Great. It’s gonna be a fight convincing him to eat his meal before pudding. Now, Han does roll her eyes. He’s too much like his daddy, sometimes.
Tom has barely closed the door and toed off his shoes when something small and squealing barrels down the corridor.
He dimly hears something German shouted in Han’s voice before he squats down to catch the little bundle of energy that is his son hurtling himself at him.
“Daddy!”
“Heyyy, my little man!” Tom rises with Jamie in his arms and flinches when he sees a yellow-greenish handprint smudge of food on his blue shirt.
“How come you’re still not done with dinner, hm?”
All he gets is a grin and a sticky hand on his cheek.
“It’s because he’s a pudding boy like his insufferable father,” Tom hears someone say, and Han steps out into the corridor, matching food stains on her sweater and their daughter in her arms.
He can’t help his sheepish grin, answering, “I’m sorry?” and laughs at Han’s eye roll.
“You’re not. You love pudding and you’re happy that you can share that passion.”
She’s right. He is. Well, he loves all kinds of food. But she’s still right. With Jamie, who’s snuggled up to him now, Tom makes his way over to his two girls.
Vicky gurgles happily at him, especially when Tom runs his index finger down her chubby cheek.
“Hi,” he says softly, before lifting his head to meet Han’s eyes. “And hi to you.” He kisses her, grinning at Jamie’s suffering “ew” that echoes through the hall.
“Hi yourself,” Han smiles back before she leans a little closer to him. “Can you please make Jamie eat his dinner?”
With a nod and a grin, Tom stands tall. “Yup. How has your day been?” he asks on the way to the kitchen.
Han shifts the small yet significant weight of Vicky to her other arm and drops into one of the kitchen chairs.
“Well, it’s been an adventure,” she says drily, quirking a brow at Tom.
“I tamed wild beasts, climbed a few mountains, prevented a volcanic eruption, and swung from trees like Tarzan. Or well, like Jane.”
Tom’s expression is priceless but she’s a bit too tired to giggle. The next moment, he blinks, then guffaws as he deftly maneuvers himself into a chair with Jamie on his lap.
“I’m pretty sure you did just that or at least have the exhaustion that goes with it.”
There’s understanding in his eyes, and warmth in his smile.
Still, Han isn’t very fond of this daily question of his. With occasional highlights like a new tooth, a new word or a really naughty prank of their rebellious 2-year-old, her days are all the same here at home.
That’s also the reason she can’t help but add, “And Vicky pooped three times.” This time, Tom blinks and stares, but doesn’t say anything. “Sorry. I’m tired and cranky.”
He smiles indulgently and Han feels bad. It’s not his fault she’s not working but staying at home with two kids.
“Well, it’s exciting for her at least,” he says while taking a bite from Jamie’s food which their son - of course - doesn’t find that amusing and starts eating again. So predictable.
Hanna’s almost afraid to ask but does it anyway. “So. How’s your day been?”
“Physical. It’s so great to see Emma perform, but she’s also simply so in her element with the stunts. Throwing herself in. I mean, you can see the change with her doing all the physical stuff.”
Han nods. He’s so excited, talking with his free hand that doesn’t hold Jamie, almost starting to babble.
“And I mean, she’s playing a mother of two, who hasn’t got much time on her hands. So we can’t make her too fit, you know?”
Well now, what’s that supposed to mean?! “Huh.”
Emma is amazing, really a perfect co-star. She’s come a long way from the time when he presented her with the Woman of the Year award at the GQ Awards 2013, and she’s definitely more than Hermione from the Harry Potter movies (which he finally watched because Han made him).
“So the team is going easy on the make-up and all,” he talks on, looking down to where Jamie is struggling valiantly with his dinner.
“Trying to give her a bit of a frazzled edge and more casual look while at the same time she pulls off all those stunts. She’s obviously not supposed to have a super-model figure or anything and…”
He’s looked up and something about Hanna’s expression stops his babbling.
She looks…kind of pissed off. But why?
They stare at each other. Unmoving.
And then Tom sees Han’s grip on Vicky tighten and feels the need to tighten his grip on Jamie as well, simply to protect himself.
She wouldn’t pounce on him if he’s holding their lovely son. Right?
She still doesn’t say anything so Tom feels the urge to do it himself. Typical for him. “We want to go away from the image that every woman needs to be super skinny to be perfect.”
Han’s eye twitches. Oh.
“So,” his wife finally says, all calm and collected, “a mother of two isn’t too fit and casual and frazzled, right?”
Oh. Oh, shit. Tom looks at his two children and back at Hanna. No. No, she got that wrong. But before he can say anything, Han continues.
“I really hope it wasn’t too much of a hassle for poor Emma to suddenly look like a tired, worn-out, unfit mother of two. Can’t imagine the amount of make-up to make her look like that. When she’s so fit and all.”
She stares him dead in the eye before sighing and shifting Vicky’s weight in her arms again.
Oh, shit.
“Um…I said the wrong thing, didn’t I?” he blurts out, wondering how he can be so eloquent at some times and so utterly tongue-tied at other times.
Han sighs again. She looks wounded more than annoyed now, and it feels like knives twisting in his gut.
He should really talk less.
“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he cajoles, hoping she can see the sincerity in his eyes. “I swear. Han, you know me, I don’t endorse all those false beauty standards and touched-up photos. I was just…”
“You were just what, Tom? Gushing over a woman who’s super fit when your wife feels like a barely tolerable, washed up on the shore, moderately attractive in a mother-of-two way Aschenputtel*?” (*the German term for Cinderella before she turns into the pretty maiden who woos the prince.)
He blinks, trying to figure out whether that was some obscure German curse word or whether she’s so emotional she butchered an English word.
Either way… “You’re nothing like that, Han. For heaven’s sake, you know I love you, body and soul and tiny perfect imperfections. And you know I can’t keep my hands off you, so how can you think I meant it that way?”
“Well,” Hanna starts, “maybe because you’re praising the lovely Emma Watson, who plays your love interest, for her fit body and great physique.”
She sees Tom’s eye twitch and now he blinks and Han just can’t with him anymore. “And you have to say all those nice things to me, because we’re married. And you meaning it really doesn’t change how I feel.” And that Emma Watson is beautiful and younger and single, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“I don’t have to say them, I want to. And I mean it. And I want you. You know that.”
“Well, you’re not here that much to tell me.”
There. She’s said it.
“Han… I… what? You’ve never…”
“Didn’t want to ruin the fun for you on set,” she grumbles and stands up with Vicky in her arms, rocking her a bit. Good, Jamie’s done with eating. “Come on Jamie, bath time.” She stands next to Tom, holding out a hand for Jamie, not looking at her husband.
Yes, she’s grumpy, no, she doesn’t care.
Goodness. Something has gone spectacularly wrong.
Tom gulps, running a hand back through his now short hair. Here he was, bursting with joy to come home to a wife and children he loves even more than his amazing job, and what seems like seconds later, someone has up-ended a bucket of cold ice over his unsuspecting head.
Han isn’t even looking at him when she holds out a hand for Jamie to follow her into the bathroom.
His son takes a step before turning back and wobbling in the process. “Daddy? Bah-th?”
Tom shoots out of the chair but stops at Han’s look.
“Want Daddy!” Jamie insists when she takes a step further, reaching out his free hand.
He hears her grumble something in German very lowly before pasting on a smile.
“Okay.”
Only then does Tom follow them, giving his son a wink to reassure him that all is well.
Well, of course he wants his daddy. Everyone wants Tom. Stupid Emma Watson probably wants Tom as well.
Okay. She’s met Emma. She’s not stupid, which is possibly worse. And maybe she also doesn’t want Tom.
Han couldn’t blame her though. He’s quite perfect when he’s not a pain in the ass. And Emma’s so well read and not a stay at home mom of two and she’s not bitchy on set probably.
And then Tom comes home to Han and of course she’s cranky. That doesn’t help the situation with a beautiful co-star, does it?
Han’s thoughts are interrupted by Jamie’s little voice. “Vi?” he asks now that they’ve reached the bathroom.
Han shakes her head, still stubbornly ignoring Tom, who shuffles along after them. “No, Vicky’s not having her bath today.”
“Mummy?”
“No. Just Jamie today.”
“And Daddy.”
Well, Han is tempted to drown Tom in the bathtub, but that’s not what Jamie means. Just as she’s about to answer, Tom chimes in.
“Actually, yes, Daddy’s having a bath as well.”
She narrows her eyes. What is he playing at?
Han gives him a narrow-eyed look that seems to wonder what he’s playing at.
Well, truth be told, he isn’t quite sure but it seemed like a good idea at the time.
With a salacious wink in her direction, he helps Jamie out of his clothes with one hand while he tugs at his own with his free hand. When his shirt is off, he catches a micro-second of Han ogling before she very deliberately turns and busies herself with the levers of the tub, muttering under her breath.
Stifling a grin, Tom hoists a now naked Jamie up to perch on the tub’s broad rim before opening his own trousers.
Han stiffens at the sound of the zipper but is still refusing to look at him while Vicky looks on with her big puppy dog eyes.
Naked himself, Tom prowls a few feet closer to Han and makes his body brush hers briefly while pretending to test the temperature of the water now flowing into the generously sized tub.
“Tom,” Han hisses. Not that quietly apparently, because the next thing she hears is a slightly lisped “Thoooom” from Jamie.
Her husband chuckles. “Yes, love?”
Damn him. And his stupid body and his stupid smile. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Me?! I’m not doing anything except having bath time with my son.”
He’s all innocent and acting and she hates it because she loves it. “It’s not going to work, Tom.”
She almost believes so herself, even as she risks a glance at that stupid face. But he has hurt her. Even if it wasn’t voluntarily.
“Nah.” That’s all he says before scooping a squealing Jamie up in his arms and lowering his - quite perfect - body in the water. Slowly.
She hates him. He’s so insufferable when he’s trying to get on her good side again.
She’s definitely sneaking peeks. And blushing a tiny bit. At least he hopes it’s his effect and not the warmth rising from the steamy bath water. It covers him enough to be decent while also being shallow enough not to be dangerous for their child.
“Ducky!” Jamie squeals, splashing a bit and causing Vicky to grizzle joyfully.
Tom grabs the colourful Duckvengers rubber duckies lining the tub’s rim (he gets Iron Man, Jamie chooses Captain America).
“Are the duckies going to have an adventure, Jamie?” he asks, feeling almost as giddily gleeful as his little son.
“’ven-shure! Yes!”
Han rolls her eyes so hard he can almost hear it. “I have no idea where he got this from,” she deadpans, making Tom chuckle without any real guilt.
“Nope, me either.”
“Noppppp,” echoes Jamie, poping the P.
Their son’s adorableness seems to be working in Tom’s favour as much as the bare torso Han is trying not to stare at.
But when he catches his wife’s gaze, she still looks rather annoyed.
Now what?
It’s too easy for him sometimes, Han thinks. Parading around (or sitting around) naked and everything’s fine because he’s Tom freaking Hiddleston.
And it’s not like she’s the only one seeing him like this, at least physically. At the moment the crew of the new movie (and Emma) sees him like that quite often.
And he sees his co-star in not much more in at least two scenes.
Han looks down at herself. She’s wearing a grey sweater with food stains, didn’t wash her hair today and yep, it’s been a sweatpants kind of day. She’s not wearing make-up and is pretty sure that Vicky’s left traces of milk somewhere in Han’s brown hair.
Her body’s different since the second birth as well.
And then she sees Tom in all his glory.
Han sighs, ignoring Tom looking at her. “You continue with Jamie, I’ll get this one ready,” she says, leaving with Vicky in her arms.
Well, hell.
Either he’s losing his touch–scary–or he’s really wounded Han–even scarier.
He’s tried words, he’s tried seduction. What else is left?
A splash of water right into his face turns his attention back to Jamie and his demands for a “duckie ‘ven-shure”, so Tom forces himself to smile.
He makes up a story of a dangerous iceberg (his knee poking out of the water) that the ducks have to avoid crashing into and has his son shrieking with delight and somehow getting cleaner in the process.
It’s nice. Being a normal dad. Unwinding after hours in the spotlight. But he misses Hanna with them and wants to kick himself for inadvertantly putting his foot in his mouth.
Han has Vicky changed and settled on the big bed she normally shares with Tom. The baby’s gurgling happily, with enough milk in her tummy to sleep a full night and not a care in the world.
Propped up pillows help the baby not rolling off the bed while Han stands in front of the large mirror in the bedroom. A mirror that in the moment only helps Tom, since Han doesn’t really see the need to use it normally.
She doesn’t like what she’s seeing anyway. Or - at least - doesn’t appreciate it as much as she used to.
This time, she turns and pinches skin at her stomach and her hips. Her breasts are still big, that’s about the only positive things she sees at the moment. And her hair is glossy when she washes it, that as well.
Han sighs, then turns and looks at Vicky. “I promise, there was a time I was comfortable right here, little one.”
Something about the way her daughter stares at her as if she’s the most fascinating–or only important–person on the planet reminds her so much of Tom always giving her 500 percent of his attention that she heaves another sigh.
Maybe she isn’t very fair to him today. Maybe she should know that he’s always gushing about his co-stars and totally not thinking of her any less. But doesn’t she have a right to feel down once in a while?
She loves her children, loves Tom, loves being a mother. But loving something doesn’t mean you have to love it fiercely all the time, doesn’t even mean you have to be blissfully happy with it all the time either.
The sound of Jamie cheering and her husband’s deeper voice and laughter joining in makes one corner of her mouth curl up.
Involuntarily insensitive idiot or not, Tom has a magical touch with their two Little Hiddlestons.
Speaking of magical touch… Nope. No, she’s not going to think of that right now. Not even sure whether she really wants him to touch her body. Or whether he wants to, despite his words and flirtatious actions.
Ugh, she’s a mess, isn’t she?
Her thoughts are interrupted by her two men making a squeaky clean entrance, a very naked Jamie riding on the shoulders of his almost naked father, a towel slung lowly around Tom’s hips.
She’s torn between rolling her eyes because she knows how much of a hassle it’ll be to get Jamie dressed now, and sighing because it’s a perfect picture that presents itself to her.
“Look, there’s Mummy and Vicky!” Tom exclaims making Jamie squeal with delight.
“Mummy! Vi!”
Han shakes her head a little but can’t help her grin. “Hello there, Jamie. Did you win against the evil iceberg?”
Excited head nodding gives her the information and Han grins. “That’s great, little one. Now, let’s get dressed.”
Yep, she’s aware of Tom’s gaze on her. And she’s also aware that she doesn’t acknowledge him. And let’s be real, that’s an impressive thing when he’s almost naked. And when he’s dressed as well.
“Nooo,” Jamie shouts, “nooooo!”
“Great. Just great. You can wrestle him then.” Oops. That’s harsher than it could have been. But at least she’s looked at Tom now. Tom, who stares back at her wide eyed.
Something is wrong. Even wronger than he thought a while ago.
He doesn’t expect bowing and effervescent gratitude for bathing his son–and himself–but a smile or a word would be nice. Would be normal.
Apparently, they’re not doing normal today.
Tom feels deflated but his son’s chin wobbles and neither he nor Han have enough energy left for the floodgates and wails to be unleashed.
And so he contorts himself and makes silly noises to shake Jamie off his shoulders and deftly catch him.
“We just went on an awesome adventure with the duckies, right?”
“Yesssss.”
“And remember the superhero duckies all wore capes? Special clothes for their adventures?”
His boy scrunches up his face, thinks hard and nods enthusiastically.
“That means if you want to be as great as them, you need to wear clothes too. Okay? Jamie gets dressed and his daddy gets dressed and then we can go on another adventure.”
With the look of a martyr that only small children can pull off, Jamie nods again, much less enthusiastically.
So he hands the naked child to Hanna, who smiles a tiny bit but still won’t really talk to him.
She’s got no idea what’s wrong with her, she really doesn’t.
Maybe it’s the fact that Tom always has amazing things to say with amazing people he’s met, and the only grown-up contact Han has is while going grocery shopping - with Vicky attached to her - and when she’s at the kindergarten for Jamie.
And then she’s happy the grown-ups are actual parents and not some paparazzi.
Or maybe - definitely - it’s the fact that Tom praises Emma Watson while Han’s simply not happy with herself.
Anyway, now she’s got Jamie in her arms, but can’t muster much more than a small smile for Tom.
“Gonna get him dressed,” she says and walks out to Jamie’s room, tickling him a bit to keep him occupied.
She picks out the Thor pyjamas, pretty sure that it’s the easiest choice. “Are these okay?” she asks her son who - much to her surprise - nods enthusiastically. “Great,” she beams, putting the outfit on for him.
“Mummy read?”
She nods. “Definitely.”
When Tom–now somewhat more dressed–pads silently to Jamie’s room a while later, his heart gives a great, big thud of overwhelming love.
His son is tucked into his bed, the collar of his Thor pyjamas the only thing visible because he’s clutching the sheet close to his chin. Eyes wide, he is listening to his mother reading about an elephant with ridiculously huge ears.
Han is also on the bed, sitting with her legs crossed at the ankles and one arm looped loosely around Jamie so she can stroke his hair gently.
Her voice is low but expressive and betrays nothing of the exhaustion she must be feeling.
Tom stands there in the doorway, mentally snapping a photo of this scene to store it away in his heart for all those times when he’s at the other end of the globe.
Everything inside him screams for him to join them on the bed, cuddle both of them close and soak in the comfort of his family.
But this evening is different, and he suspects Han needs some time and space as nothing he says or does seems to be right.
Suppressing a sigh and the longing in his gut, Tom turns silently and walks back into their bedroom.
When Jamie’s breaths even out, Han stops reading and slowly gets up from the bed to pad out of the room, leaving the night light on and the door open so Jamie can call or come to the bedroom if anything is amiss.
Walking to the bedroom – while she simultaneously thinks of all the things that wait for her in the other parts of the house, like the dishes in the kitchen and the toys scattered across the living-room – Han is greeted by a sight she’ll never get sick of.
Tom’s on his back, Vicky sprawled across his chest, giggling happily while he tickles her. He’s so good and in love with them, even when he comes home late, simulating being married to another woman for work.
He looks up and smiles a little, whispering, “Look, there’s Mummy,” to their little daughter. God, she misses him.
So, instead of going to the kitchen, Han walks to the bed, lowering herself on her side on the bed, one hand tucked under her cheek and smiling at Vicky.
She sighs. “Hello, baby,” she whispers, running one finger over Vicky’s cheek, making the baby smile.
“You okay?” Tom whispers and Han feels bad for simply shrugging as an answer. But she really doesn’t know. She’s just so off today.
That shrug hurts him.
Tom frowns, shifting his little daughter a bit so she’s lying between them and can wiggle around her chubby legs and arms, making gurgling sounds that slowly turn sleepier.
“Han, won’t you tell me what’s wrong? If I hurt you, I didn’t mean to. Which doesn’t make me less guilty, I suppose”
He unleashes the full force of his puppy dog look on her, hoping she will open up to him. Hanna is a very vocal and confident person, and he usually knows how he’s fucked up when he’s managed to anger or hurt her.
Tentatively, he reaches out and brushes his knuckles over her cheek.
“C’mon, my beautiful wife, let me hear what a wanker I’ve been.”
She sighs and swallows, and Tom’s a little afraid of what to expect.
“I’m not,” she whispers.
He frowns. What the heck does she mean? “You’re not what?”
“Don’t think I’m all that beautiful right now.”
His heart shatters. Literally shatters. His hand stops moving and he doesn’t even hear Vicky’s little gurgles anymore.
“Why don’t you? What is this nonsense? You’re beautiful, I can’t stop touching you.”
“Well, we’re married. We’re used to each other. You love me. Doesn’t make me beautiful or fit or anything like… like Emma or something.”
“Han, listen. I didn’t mean it like that.” Tom sits up now, looking down at his wife, who still won’t look at him, but looks at Vicky instead. She hasn’t even raised her voice, that’s how deflated she must feel.
And just because he couldn’t shut up about his stupid movie?
“You’re beautiful, I love you,” he insists, while he doesn’t really know what more to say to make this better.
It should be enough, shouldn’t it? And often it is because deep down, Hanna knows that Tom does love her. That she’s his and he’s hers and everything is fine.
But there are days when she just doesn’t want to be happy or be convinced or be mollycoddled. Days when it’s all a bit much and she has a few minutes of doubt and needs to reconfigure her brain and heart.
And it isn’t even Tom’s fault really, which makes his sad face even worse to bear.
But it is what it is.
“I love you too.”
She’ll give him that much because it’s also true.
Not waiting for his reaction, Han gets up and pads away to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
She’s even locked it, to be more precise. She’s been constantly there smiling for everyone and being talked out of funks easily by Tom, she simply can’t ‘adult’ tonight.
It’s not even that late and she’s still got things to do, but maybe a hot shower is exactly what she needs.
Relaxing and just being there for herself feels great right now.
As she undresses and gets ready for her shower, Han can hear Tom’s low voice talking to their daughter from the other side of the door – and happy giggles from her as if she’s responding.
When Han starts the shower, there are feet on the floor that get nearer and a slow tap on the door.
“Han? I don’t want you to be alone now, can we come in?”
“No. No, you can’t come in.”
Before she can hear his response, Han makes a quick dash to the shower and steps in, feeling the hot water slowly warm and relax her befuddled mind.
Tom narrowly manages to suppress a frustrated growl and keep from banging his fist against the door.
This whole ‘give her space to breathe and calm down’ thing is infuriating because he hates feeling helpless and hurting for the love of his life.
Also, Han fleeing into a shower evokes awful memories that make it hard to breathe. Of that time in Italy when the paparazzi snapped them having naughty fun al fresco on the balciony, and of Han having a breakdown when it was all over the media.
It sends a jolt of pain through him but he knows that him freaking out won’t help.
Hoping to God that she isn’t crying her heart out inside the shower–once again because of something that is in some screwed up, indirect way his fault–Tom paces back and forth, back and forth.
The motion lulls Vicky to sleep so he places her gently back down in the middle of the bed before resuming his pacing. He can hear water and nothing much else.
He waits and waits and worries, then finally grumbles to himself and looks for something to do.
Walking to the wardrobe, he roots around for Han’s favourite, most comfy sleeping clothes and gets them ready for her.
When she’s finished her shower, Han realises that she forgot to get clothes. Great. That means going in just a towel and not much else, right?
She also doesn’t hear Tom – or Vicky – anymore. So maybe that means she can avoid any awkward run-ins.
Startled she realises, those meetings with her husband shouldn’t be awkward.
When Han slowly opens the door, she sees Tom shooting up from the bed, her favourite comfy clothes for sleeping in hand. He’s picked exactly what she would have as well.
In the bed Han sees a sleeping Vicky and then she looks at Tom who has such a hopeful look in his eyes, that she can’t help herself anymore.
“Thank you,” she whispers, pointing to the clothes while her grip on the towel tightens. “That’s what I need, i think.”
That makes him smile tentatively.
Han stands there, debating what she should do next and feeling a fraction better after her shower.
Tom crosses over to her with that slow prowling gait he’s perfected.
“Let’s get you ready for bed, love,” he says softly–and somehow that’s what she wants to hear, not more seduction or worried questions.
And so she lets him take charge again, and it’s a soft kind of yielding that doesn’t cost her as much as she’d have thought, though things are still not completely right.
Her grip on the towel loosens as Tom tugs and peels it away, then kneels to hold the legs of her pyjama pants out for her to step into.
“You’re so very beautiful, Mrs. Hiddleston.”
He says it softly, reverently almost, leaning closer.
Then his lips are on her calf with its aching muscles.
“Here.”
He gives her another soft kiss on her thighs, a bit chunkier and with skin a bit less firm than they used to be.
“And here.”
Tom pulls the trousers higher and kisses the stretch marks on her almost flat belly.
“And most definitely here.”
He nuzzles closer but somehow keeps his behaviour clear of anything sexual.
She wouldn’t have the energy left for anything sexual anyway. And she loves that Tom gets that and she loves his words and actions even more.
So much that it brings tears to her eyes that she wipes hastily, and sniffles a bit. The only sign that shows her Tom’s heard is him nuzzling in even more and planting a soft kiss right next to her belly button.
He gets up slowly, shirt in hand, then ducks a little to press a kiss on each breast. “You’re beautiful here as well, and very much…” He pauses a moment, looking into her eyes and then kisses her lips. “…here,” he murmurs.
She feels like smiling at him for the first time today, so she does.
“Arms up, Hanna,” Tom says, his voice almost the same as when he talks Vicky to sleep, and she does as he said, him pulling the shirt on for her, before he kisses her nose.
Tom feels a weight lift off his shoulders when Han gives him her first real smile in hours, reaching her still slightly sad and more than slightly tired eyes.
He grasps her shoulders and turns her around, then unties her somewhat messy ponytail and gently sifts his fingers through her hair to work out the tangles. His fingertips graze her skull in the slightest of massages because he can practically feel the tension in his own body.
Han sighs softly and sways towards him, so he steps closer until he can hug her close from behind.
After a moment, Tom presses a last kiss on top of her hair.
“And you’re extremely beautiful inside this hard, stubborn little head of yours too, so please don’t torment yourself, love.”
He doesn’t get an aswwer and he’s all out of words anyway, so he turns her again and walks her to the bed.
“Do you want me to hold you until you fall asleep or to make a bee line for the kitchen and all those dirty dishes first?” he asks.
What? No! She wants to protest loudly, but the sleeping Vicky on the bed wouldn’t allow her. So, apparently, Han’s tired body and mind decide to stammer something out.
“No, Tom. I have… You shouldn’t… So many things to do… Vicky.” Whelp, that isn’t helpful at all, as Han can clearly see on Tom’s face.
So, she makes herself heavier, and they come to a stop, Tom’s head adorably tilted.
Han takes a breath and starts again. “I’ll do the dishes Tom. And Vicky needs to be put down in her crib. You were busy, I should… I will…”
But before her brain can malfunction again, Tom interrupts her. With a smile and a huff. “I know that you want to do that, love, but you shouldn’t and you won’t. You get in bed, give Vicky a kiss and cuddle her while I face the dishes.”
His hands grab her waist and start leading her backwards again. She’s so caught up in his words, she doesn’t even find it in her to protest. Or maybe she’s simply tired, especially now after the relaxing shower and sitting on the bed.
Huh.
“C’mon, darling, in with you. There you go.”
Tom’s voice is that intoxicating mix of stern command and soothing gentleness that always makes her comply. Before Han knows it, she’s lying in bed next to Vicky and Tom is drawing the sheet up over her and tucking her in as if she were another child.
“All set.” He smiles and presses a last kiss to her forehead.
“No need to wait up for me, Han. I’ll be a while and then I’ll just fall into bed and join you in dreamland.”
She opens her mouth–to protest? To say something, Lord knows what?
But Tom is already moving again, so she snuggles in farther and shuts her eyes obediently as he closes the door partly and walks away.
Faintly, she can hear the sound of water and dishes, even off and on something that sounds like Tom humming softly to himself and walking around the kitchen.
30 minutes later he’s done with the dishes and also picked up enough toys to open a private nursery in their house. A little futile considering tomorrow they’ll all be out again.
It’s been a strange day today and all Tom could think of while doing the chores is how to help Han this time.
He can’t really do anything, can he? Although, maybe she wants to visit the set? Take the children with her? To see everything’s alright.
Yep, he decides, he’s going to ask her.
When he enters their bedroom, all he hears are Han’s deep, low and slow breaths, a sure sign she’s asleep.
So, Tom picks up Vicky – with minimal movements and noise – and carries her to her crib that still stands in their bedroom.
When he’s sure she’ll sleep on, he gets ready for the night himself and then slips into the bed behind Han. Tom smiles when he feels her snuggling closer in her sleep, and soon drifts off himself, his wife secured in his arms.