Hey guys! I went to the museum and had a buncha cute thoughts about Tom there, so I thought I’d do my best to eloquently sum them up for you guys! I hope y’all like the imagine, and feel free to message me if you ever want me to write anything specific!
She was drenched within the white walls of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Different colors seemed to drip from the ceiling and she eagerly soaked them up, ambling through the varying exhibits.
Biting down on her lip, she pulled the map out of her bag and tried to pinpoint her exact location. The whole reason she came today was to see the German expressionism art exhibit. From the articles she read, she learned that the LACMA had secured assorted paintings from the 1920s, and she was desperate to see them.
Nobody had wanted to come with her, so she decided to go alone. Thinking back to her decision, she realized that it probably wasn’t the best, seeing as she was as directionally challenged as the fates from Greek mythology, who only had one eye to share between the three of them. Glancing up at the sculptures, she wished that they’d come to life and help her with directions like the characters from Night at the Museum would. Alas, she thought, and stuffed the map back into her purse and carried on walking.
Tom wasn’t too jazzed to be spending his Sunday afternoon at a museum. Him, Harrison, and Harry had only come because Harry wanted to take photos outside. Harry then decided that they should all explore the museum because they happened to be there, and some of the exhibits sounded neat.
It wasn’t that Tom disliked art, because he didn’t, he liked art just as much as the next guy, but he had too much energy to be quiet while they walked through the massive museum. All the walls were clean and white, bare except for paintings, and it reminded him of being locked away in an insane asylum. He wanted out, but decided to wait it out for Harry’s sake.
“Hmmm,” Harry muttered, leafing through the museum’s vast map, “we should try to find the German art, it says here that they’re being moved around in a few days.”
Tom groaned into his hands, “Why? You don’t even like history, let’s go outside! It’s 85 degrees, we could be at the beach.”
Elbowing him, Harrison said, “We’ve gone to the beach everyday this week, you can handle some,” he glanced at the page to confirm the exhibit’s title, “German expressionism.”
Tom pouted as he followed Harrison and Harry up the stairs to the German exhibit.
She smiled victoriously. She’d made it to her exhibit, all without asking for help. She had traipsed around long enough, wandering up the stairs, down the stairs, through long hallways, all while taking in all the art the museum had to offer it’s visitors.
Softly, under her breath, she muttered, “Finally,” and walked into 1920s Germany.
When the boys had gotten to their destination, the room where all the art was hung-up was essentially empty, except for the small frame of a girl loitering around the pictures.
The first photo Tom stopped in front of was horrendous. The colors were all dark, and cool-toned and seemed to blend together in a very unfavorable fashion. The people depicted looked afraid, dazed, and as if they were being chased down some great monster. It was also a somewhat abstract painting, and Tom couldn’t really tell what anything in the painting really was. Shaking his head and crossing his arms, Tom moved onto the next painting while Harry and Harrison discussed the information on the plaque beneath the artwork.
She came to a stop in front of a vivid, richly red painting. The woman portrayed was naked, lying on her back, looking as if she was floating above the earth. Her eyes were startled and her mouth curled back, as if she had a scream caught in her throat, and her hands grasped at something invisible and unattainable.
Her eyes drifted from the plaque and back up to the painting again as she attempted to decipher and put back together the conceptual work of art. She heard the shuffling of a body behind her, but didn’t turn her head.
Tom reached the painting the girl stood in front of. Focusing more on the back of her head than the disturbing painting, his gaze trailed down the length of her spine, covered in the soft blanket of her black sweater, and then back up to the halo of light emitted from her shiny hair. He wanted her to turn around so he could see if her face was as pretty as her hair, but he couldn’t think of anything to say.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to spend anytime thinking of something to say. Harrison backed into Harry, and Harry let out a shout of surprise, and she whirled around and collided with his chest, clearly surprised by the sudden breach of silence.
She made a move to side-step around Tom, so she wouldn’t fall into him, but her ankle slipped up and she let out a shriek of shock and began to fall backwards. Quickly regaining his bearings, Tom slipped a soft hand around her waist to pull her back up, but tripped over someone’s feet, at this point, he couldn’t tell who’s, and ended up tangled around her as they fell to the ground.
Thankfully, due to his Spider-man training, he knew how to fall with someone in his arms without either of them getting bruised up too badly. Tom shifted, pulling her to his chest and placed a hand behind her cranium, and fell with his back onto the wood floors, cradling the girl to his chest.
When they finally settled onto the ground and he opened his mouth to ask if she was alright, he was stricken by her eyes. Her eyes were like flower petals, Tom thought, as they glassily peered up at him. They unfurled like fresh, spring florets and her eyelashes curled the same way leaves did. Soft roses smeared across her cheeks as she began to utter apologies a mile a minute at him.
Removing herself from his grip, she sat back on her knees and pressed her hands to her lips. Tom could hear hysterical laughter and Harrison shouted, “Smooth mate, smooth!” In his general direction. Leaning up onto his elbows, he tried to think of something smooth to say.
“Shit, fuck, fuck, I’m really sorry! Are you okay? Should I get someone? Oh geez, don’t move, I can try to find you an ice pack. Oh my gosh, I’ve literally killed Spider-man before his film is even out to the cinemas. I’m really so sorry, like, anything you’re thinking, double it, triple it, shit, sorry, sorry, sorry!” At this point, she sounded like she was becoming frantic.
Swiftly, Tom was sitting up and trying to comfort her. “No, no, don’t worry! It’s fine, I’m fine! Are you fine?”
“I cannot believe, of all things, I bump into you! I literally crushed you and you’re asking if I’m alright?” Her hands flitted around rapidly, not sure where they should settle down.
Tom sat up straighter, she seemed to know who he was. “Are you, uh, do you like Spider-man?”
“Youre-fuck- he’s my favorite. I’m really sorry, I just can’t believe-.” Tom noticed that her hands were shaking.
“Darling, it’s fine! Don’t worry about the fall, I’m just glad that I was there to catch you! Made me feel like I’m actually your friendly, neighborhood Spider-man.” He moved to help her up off the floor as he stood up.
A giggle left her lips as she accepted his hand. “I’m sorry for being a creep and for almost mangling you to death.”
“Don’t be silly,” Tom tilted his body closer to hers, “Wouldn’t be doing Peter justice if I just let you fall.”
She smiled up at him shyly. She could barely believe that this was happening to her. She knew Tom, she loved Tom, she even had an embarrassing blog dedicated to Tom, and now, here Tom was. He was even cuter, more polite and charming than his interviews did him justice, and she had almost flattened him against the hardwood floor of the museum.
“Are you here with anyone, because if you’re not,” Tom’s arm curled up behind his head, “we could look at all this disturbing artwork together? And, maybe I could buy you a coffee afterword?”
Her entire face lit up, and she felt so giddy that she had to physically stop herself from jumping up and down. She automatically launched into a nervous chatter about the artwork surrounding them. “The artwork is historical! All these were right before Hitler came into power, so Germany was struggling economically after the war and was looked down upon by basically everyone, so that’s the only reason they’re not light and fluffy, if that’s the disturbing aspect you’re speaking of.”
Quirking an eyebrow, Tom smiled at her, “is that a yes? Or-?”
Her eyes widened and she impulsively grasped his hand, and upon realizing what she’d done, she recoiled, blushing furiously. “Yes, I’d love that.”
Taking her hand within his own, and making a blatant point of flipping off Harrison and Harry as they hooted in the background, “Now, tell me more about,” He turned around to examine the time period stamped onto the painting, “1920s Germany.”
Leading him to the next painting, she did just that.
A chubby Marlene Dietrich in her days of silent movies and theaters. All her life she would preach that her first role was The Blue Angel, when in fact she had several roles in silent pictures, some of them leading roles.
“Trashy old films… those were bit parts, not roles”- she would say near the end of her life when confronted with actual prints of her silent films for the recording of the documentary “Marlene” (1984)