Chapter Text
You let out a long sigh and lifted the cup to your lips, delighting in the feeling of the warm china against your cold skin. It was a chilly October day in London: the sky was grey, promising rain, and the wind blew straight through your coat. Therefore, you had decided upon a cup of tea at a cosy little cafe near your flat before going home after a long day of work.
It was Wednesday, which was your favourite day, since you could stay longer at work. You worked as a writer and layout designer for a huge newspaper company, and you loved writing. You often took your work back home and stayed up long preparing tomorrow's page layout if you didn't work on your own stories. Your family used to say you'd married your work.
The cafe was little but business was booming:every table and booth were filled. You, however, were alone in your booth in the corner. You were looking out upon the dimly lit room, which offered a cosy contrast to the grim afternoon. People were chatting and laughing, sipping their tea or coffee, digging into sweet pastries or buns and going through their Facebook feed on their phone or whatever other activity one might normally do at a cafe in the heart of London.
You shifted on the soft red sofa and pulled up your notes from your handbag. You read the latest entry and soon you were absorbed by the writing, switching words and shifting ideas so the information would read better. Therefore, you didn't hear the man standing next to you until he gently nudged your shoulder. You flinched and looked up into a pair of strikingly blue eyes, which seemed to shift in the lights: they were blue now, but as he stepped back and the light fell differently they shimmered green.
"May I sit here?" he asked and gestured towards the table by which you were sitting. You shrugged and returned to your notes, a little irritated over being disturbed; but on the other hand, the cafe was crowded and he only wanted a seat to drink his tea. Earl Grey, you noted by the smell. You refocused on your notes and read them again, crossed some things over absentmindedly but didn't quite know what you were doing. Your gaze travelled towards the man's hands: large with long, slender fingers. They fit perfectly in the dirty fantasies you used to write.
You sighed and shut your notebook, slid it back into your handbag and leaned back, cup in your hand. You had chosen a smooth vanilla tea today to lighten up your mood. As the hot drink ran down your throat your eyes wandered up his lean body, his muscular yet slender arms, the white shirt he was wearing that looked great on his body. His dark blue padded jacket was folded neatly next to him on the sofa.
You let your gaze wander upwards as you sipped your tea. He lifted his cup to his lips as your eyes traced his neck, jaw and cheekbones. You studied his hair for a while: a dark, beautiful brown which faded down to blonde outgrowth—a dye job then—and the way he styled it. Your gaze fell to his eyes.
He was looking at you.
You looked away, feeling your cheeks heat. How long had he watched you size him up and judge him? You had been staring, what if he thought you were rude?
You chanced a glance and found that he was still staring straight into your eyes. You looked into your empty tea cup and swallowed. Just as you were about to cough up an excuse and hurry away he flinched.
"Oh dear, I'm sorry, were I staring? I lost myself in thought, I'm sorry."
You looked at him and nodded.
"It's alright, I... I was staring too. I apologise." you said quickly.
A smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"What were you writing when I came?" he asked, and then added quickly, "If I may ask, that is."
You smiled and pulled your notes up.
"It's just a draft. I write. For a newspaper."
You started gabbling about your work and employers and how you'd rather be a writer than a journalist, how you wanted to really touch people with your words instead of reporting thingsand suddenly you realised how much you'd been talking. You stopped yourself mid-sentence and excused yourself but he only laughed.
"Darling, it is interesting to hear, so please tell me more," he begged. You smiled uncertainly but continued, now telling him about the stories you wrote in your free time, the alternate universes you escaped into. He listened intently, his eyes trained on yours but sometimes flicking towards your lips. His eyes were gleaming in the light.
'They're beautiful,' you found yourself thinking. Well, they were. As if someone had hidden a universe in them. You could write a lot of stories based on this man's appearance. You wondered how the rest of him looked, if his legs were as muscular as his arms, if he had a six pack or just a little muscle, how often he worked out...
"Darling?"
You jerked and looked at him. He half chuckled, just breathed out but in a laughing way. You smiled shyly and looked down.
'Do you have to stare?' You scolded yourself as colour rose to your cheeks, your face positively burning with shame.
"Is there something wrong with my shirt?" he asked and you laughed nervously.
"No," you replied, "I'm sorry. My mind wandered away."
He chuckled.
"Seems it does that a lot."
You smiled and nodded. Silence stretched out between you and your eyes travelled over his body again. You wondered how tall he was compared to you.
'Say something,' your mind urged you. You sighed, what would you say?
"So..." you started and faded out. He lifted his head and his eyes met yours away. You had gained his attention, now you had to continue. Cursing in your head you asked,"So what do you do for a living?"
'Walk around looking hot, probably. I'd pay to look at that.'
You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. Alright, he looked good. In fact, he looked very good.
'Too good for me?' you asked yourself. You were hopeless in love, had never succeeded in the past. You weren't ugly, no, you looked good…but you didn't match him and probably wouldn’t, not in a million years. Besides, a guy like him would surely be taken. But if not...
'As if he'd date you,' your mind taunted you.
"You don't know who I am?" he asked and then immediately apologised. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me. I'm used to being recognised wherever I go. Oh god, that sounds even worse-"
You couldn't stop yourself; you laughed. Or giggled, you didn't know. He looked so sweet when he was correcting himself. He smiled sheepishly as you said:
"It's okay, I suppose you do get used to it. I actually do not know who you are, I'm sorry."
Now you wondered. What if you'd seen him somewhere in a movie? Damn, that would be awkward!
"The name's Tom Hiddleston," he said and smiled. "I suppose most people recognise me as Loki..."
He continued talking about Marvel but you only listened half-heartedly. Loki.
You saw it now. His face was exactly the same, just his hair was differently coloured and shorter and he had a stubble while Loki was clean shaven. You smiled as you recognised his eyebrows.
'Seriously?' you asked yourself. 'His fucking eyebrows?'
You were a big fan of Marvel and had a huge comic collection at home, and you had seen the latest movies, but you hadn't laid any time on the actors and actresses- instead you sat at home discussing the comics compared to the books with other nerds online. He chuckled as he realised you were lost in thought again and waved his hand in front of your eyes. You jumped and he threw his head back in an adorable laugh. It sounded like "ehehe" and went straight to your heart.
"You're so cute when you do that," he said and your heart skipped a beat. Cute?
Your mind started to protest but you were already smiling widely. He smiled back and suddenly his shin made contact with yours. He had your left leg stuck between his own, the fabrics of your jeans rubbing together. He was still looking into your eyes and acted like nothing was happening under the table, like your knees didn't almost touch. Somehow, you felt he was leg flirting with you.
'Leg flirting? Seriously?'
You wanted to sigh at your own word choice, but explained to yourself for the thousandth time that you didn't know flirting or dating, you spent too much time in front of the computer. Perhaps this was something people did.
"So what's your name?" he asked with a smile. You smiled and told him, now returning his "leg flirts". You saw the corner of his mouth twitching. Everything else seemed to fade when he looked at you like that. Suddenly you didn't hear the baby crying or chatting or beeping of phones, only his smooth and deep voice. You could only imagine what that could sound like in bed, and your imaginations were hot.
'Wait, wait, aren't we jumping the gun here? Are you sure he would even want someone like you? Aren't, like, all the big actors married? Do you seriously expect YOURSELF to have a chance with HIM?' your mind asked and you resisted the urge to slap yourself.
"That's a lovely name," he said. You thanked him, still staring into those beautiful eyes. There was something in them, and his lips were curling into a smirk. He finished his tea and looked at the clock.
"It seems I must go," he said and looked genuinely sad. "It was nice to meet you. I'd love to talk to you another day."
'ASK FOR HIS NUMBER!' you were screaming to yourself but the words never made it past your lips. You needn't ask, though, for he continued:
"How about same place, same time, tomorrow?"
You smiled and nodded. As soon as he had pulled his jacket on and left the cafe it seemed the day got a little darker again, the sun hid behind a cloud and your smile faded. You couldn't wait till tomorrow.