So if you have to give us like a personality trait of yours or like a quirky thing that you do - what don’t people know about you specifically — I have a real fear of anyone or anything touching my belly button … don’t try and do it if you meet me please because it freaks me out…
a/n: i got a little too happy at the thought of tom being back in england this weekend and my mind started to wander.
let me know if you enjoy this here, since i might turn it into a mini-series, and i may even write a prequel to this part.
The fresh white covers were soft under your fingertips as you stirred. The morning sunshine was threatening to pour into the room through the thin curtains of Tom’s childhood bedroom, the curtains that he hated so dearly and told you so each time you visited.
You shuffled, drawing your head up to look around the room. Remnants of the night before were littered around, like his duffle bag that he always travelled with, flung on the chair that sat in the corner, and his passport tossed lazily on the nightstand, and both yours and Tom’s clothes in crumpled piles at the foot of the bed, a hint at the haste you both shared last night to be back in each other’s arms.
At your movement, Tom stirred and tangled his legs around yours beneath the sheets, and you wrapped an arm over his bare chest, his warmth radiating on to you. You traced your fingertips back and forth across his slightly bronzed skin, the only remainder of his summer days spent in America, rather than here with you.
You didn’t mind the days when he was gone too much. Of course, it was no picnic to live without your boyfriend by your side, or even in the same country, for weeks at a time. But the days apart only made your time together all the more special when he could come back, made you hold the moments that you could share a little closer to your heart.
Watching him sleep made you feel as though he never left you, and laying there examining each of his peaceful features made you realise how much you loved him that little bit more each day. Even his flaws, even the dints and scars scattered across his cheeks, even the imperfections that the rest of the world saw, seemed perfect to you.
You didn’t want to disturb him further than you already had, but you couldn’t help yourself from reaching up to run a hand through his hair. Though shorter than the curls that you had come to know and love, you had grown to quite like this new hairstyle on him. His hair felt soft and fluffy between your fingers, and you assumed that he probably washed it before his flight yesterday morning.
Leaning closer, you could smell his naturally soapy scent, the cologne he’d worn the day before only lingering a little now. You brushed his cheek with your thumb as he started to wake a little more, and Tom hummed as you pressed a soft kiss to the side of his face.
Rolling into you, his lips met yours in a sleepy embrace, his strong arms curling around your back, his fingers splayed wide to hold you close to him. Of all the moments in Tom’s life that he cherished, of all the escapades his fame brought him, mornings like this with you were his favourite. Holding you in his arms, feeling the steady beat of your heart against his, staring into your eyes and sharing lazy kisses. This was by far the most magical of moments to him.
“Mornin’ love, sleep well?” He mumbled, brushing your hair from your face, a sleepy smile spread across his lips.
You only nodded, returning his grin before you pressed your head on his chest to rest it, pulling the covers up to your chin. You sighed, feeling utterly content, until a small knock at the door interrupted the comfortable silence.
“Come in,” Tom’s chest vibrated as he spoke, and the door was softly pushed open. Tessa came bounding in, ecstatic to see you again, and Sam poked his head around the door.
“Sorry, but uh— mum said to remind you that we need to get going soon…” Sam seemed unsure of how to position himself, feeling a little awkward that he had to be the one to ruin this perfect moment.
He pulled the door back, leaving Tessa to curl up in your lap. Tom groaned and rubbed his eyes tiredly, sliding out of bed beside you, and as you scratched behind Tessa’s ears, you sighed.
“Why d’ya have to go again so soon,” you pouted at your boyfriend, watching him pull a pair of boxers from his drawers to slide them on, before doing the same with some socks.
You couldn’t see Tom’s face, but you watched his shoulders rise and fall, and if he had been facing you, you would’ve seen the pained expression he wore before he turned to you.
“It’s just not fair, those stupid producers and directors get you for weeks at a time and I get you for one stinking day!” You knew you shouldn’t complain; Tom always did his best to keep both you and his work equal.
Tessa jumped down and nudged the door open to escape, so you sat up and pulled the covers around your chest, blinking at Tom in the half-lit bedroom. You rested your head on your shoulder, watching him innocently as he gathered last night’s clothes from the floor. After he had shoved them into his bag, you snatched it from him playfully.
“You can’t leave me if you don’t have your clothes,” you dropped it to the floor on your side of the bed and Tom reached out, a playful smirk on his lips.
“Darling, I’d still have to leave, but I’d have to leave like this,” he gestured down to his body, wearing only his boxers and some socks.
“I happen to think that’s quite a good look on you,” you giggled, biting your thumb as he bent a knee on to the bed, crawling towards you.
“Well you would,” he smirked, his legs straddled either side of your hips before he leant down to kiss you softly, his lips moving gently with yours.
The longer the kiss continued, the more intense it got. Tom’s hands began to wander, tracing every inch of your chest, his tongue dipping into your mouth. When you felt him groan above you, you knew it was time to pull away.
You hummed in contentment, staring up into your boyfriend’s deep brown eyes, your arms around his neck as your fingertips played lightly with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Baby, we don’t have time for that, you have a plane to catch,” your hand came down to run along his collarbone.
“One second you don’t want me to leave, the next you’re knocking me back, ouch,” Tom chuckled and lifted one hand that he had been using to balance himself above you, to cup your cheek lightly. “Think you can wait for me until next time?” He asked with a cheeky grin.
“I’m sure I’ll manage somehow,” you laughed and he leant over to take his bag from your side of the bed.
Tom stayed straddled across your hips, a smile still lingering as he looked down at you. “Y’know, I think you somehow get more and more beautiful every time I come back to you.”
You blushed at his words as he scattered kisses across your cheeks, on your nose, and finally on your lips.
“Shut up smelly,” you slapped his chest playfully, “and go take a shower, you actually do stink.”