You come into awareness slowly, as the final wisps of a dream filter away. It takes a few moments of drowsing in your semi conscious state for you to become aware that there is something amiss. Small things begin to filter slowly in your senses, a trace scent of expensive cologne, a warm weight around your waist, that seems to be holding on tightly, a warm and breathing mass at your back.
Your eyes fly open, and remaining vestiges of sleep chased away by sheer panic. You’d scream but your heart is simultaneously trying to beat out of your chest and climb out of your throat. Quickly scanning your surroundings, you calm down enough to breathe, when you recognize the over-stuffed bookcases, the multitude of pictures and posters on the wall across from you, the alarm clock next to your head, which reads 6:25 AM and the black and green bedding. All of these things belong to you, so you are in your own apartment, and if it wasn’t for the fact that you can feel whoever it is behind you breathing, their breath gently ruffling your hair, you might have calmed down.
You aren’t uncomfortable by any means, the person behind you gives off a sense of warm familiarity, and you feel like you should know who it is, and you instinctively trust them, but you definitely do not remember inviting someone into your bed last night.
Thinking back as hard as you can, you know you spent the evening alone, dashing home from work, to change into your workout clothes for dance class (which you only take because you’ll need some hot moves if you ever do actually meet Tom Hiddleston, the weight loss was a side benefit), and then home again and into your favorite plush pajama bottoms and a tank top, thankfully you are still wearing those. Dinner and “The Avengers” while you spend two hours browsing pinterest and hanging out on Facebook before going to bed with a book.
Nope, there’s nothing in there to suggest the current turn of events you find yourself in. Recent evidence suggests that the person holding you is most definitely a man, and you find yourself not as scared as you should be, but intrigued. Your internal monologue has taken some time, and you don’t think they mean you any harm, because if they did, they probably would have done something already, so with a quiet sigh, you gather the courage to turn over and meet your mystery guest. Wiggling a little to loosen the grip he has on you, you slowly turn over and find yourself face to face with a shirtless, deeply sleeping Thomas William Hiddleston.
Your entire body freezes, like a doe in the headlights, and you fight the urge to scream. What in the HELL is he doing in your bed. As the block spots begin to dance before your eyes, you realize that in your effort not to scream at the top of your lungs, you’ve stopped breathing. Surrendering yourself to the darkness, you can only thing one word: how?
The next time you become aware of your own existence, there are lips on your neck, hands on your hips and a quiet, rumbling voice telling you to wake up. “Come on, I know you’re awake now, open your eyes darling, I need to see them”
Just as you are about to panic and scream, you feel his lips on yours, and you are lost. Images begin to flash behind your eyes as you automatically kiss him back.
A chance meeting in a London park while you were on vacation, an exchange of phone numbers, dinner, dancing, a walk on a beach, a kiss under the stars, another kiss under the fireworks, a ring given under the Eiffel Tower, a quiet wedding, more days and nights together than you can count a running through your head at what seems like light speed. How could you have possibly forgotten even one second of your time with this incredible man? Then suddenly, there’s a bright light, a crash, pain, and then darkness. An impersonal, sterile hospital room, and then nothing until now.
The accident! You were hit by a car! The words drunk driver whisper through the darkness and the rest of the last year filters back in. Waking up in a hospital room, a bruised Tom sitting next to your bed, and you with no clue as to why your favorite actor is in your hospital room, the doctors and nurses making him leave after you had a panic attack, and then, finally, an explanation. You’ve lost five years of time. Amnesia. Tom adamantly telling your mom that he wasn’t giving up on you, and his attempts to get to know you again, the dates, the silly conversations, the time he took out of his life to try to fix this.
You can hear him calling your name through a fog, “You’re scaring me, please answer me, what’s going on” His terrified and concerned face is the first thing you see when you open your eyes. Unable to resist, you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer, needing to just hold him for a moment.
“Darling?” He finally questions. “What’s going on? You’re acting a little off this morning.”
You laugh, knowing exactly what he’s referring to. In the last year, the “new” version of you has never been this affectionate with him, while the “normal” non-amnesiatic version of you is probably the most affectionate person on the planet, after Tom of course. “Thomas, sweetheart,” you begin, knowing you are probably going to give him a heart attack with the next words out of your mouth, “where are my wedding rings?”
He drops you back onto the bed as he sits up in shock, and you land with giggle, the look on his face is priceless. Eyes wide, mouth hanging open, hair standing on end, oh, what you wouldn’t give for a camera right this minute.
“Are you,” he stops, closes his mouth, takes a deep breath, and starts again. “Are you back?” he whispers, clearly unable to believe it.
You launch yourself into his arms again. “Yes, I’m back, and I promise, I’ll never leave you again!” He hugs you tightly, happy and relieved to be reunited with you.