You were so ready for a couple Tylenol and maybe a sip or two from that point of Southern Comfort packed away in your suitcase. The elevator opened onto your floor and you were more than a little surprised to find a man trying to get into your room. He was rather tall and had a lush head of ginger curls but it couldn't be... In any case he was swearing as he repeatedly tried to unlock the door with his key card.
"Uh, I think you have the wrong room." You offered.
The man turned and of course it was Tom, untidy after a long day but unmistakable. Glassy eyes looked you over. "Oh god, 's you. (Y/N). So sorry." He slurred. "Could've sworn this was 33."
Christ, the guy was drunk!
"Nah, this is 23. You're on the wrong floor."
Tom nodded unsteadily and slipped the card into his back pocket. "Had a few drinks at dinner I'm afraid. But 's good to see you again."
Well that was just crazy talk, but you smiled nonetheless.
"I was planning on doing some drinking myself. If you wanna join me."
Shoot your shot, bitch!
"Sure! I wanted to ask you to dinner before but I dunno. No time."
You shook your head as you opened the door.
"Sit wherever. I'm gonna change real quick." And probably pinch yourself because there was no way this was really happening.
You chose lilac leggings and an oversized pink sweatshirt. The bathroom's lighting wasn't the most flattering but you touched up your lipstick and ran a brush through your hair. After what felt like an age, you stepped out to find Tom hurriedly trying to hide that he had just been fixing his hair at the darkened window.
"You kept the blue wig on? It's cute."
You blushed and rummaged through your bag. "Thanks. It's actually my real hair."
"Really? That's fantastic!"
The praise was a fine thing, though you didn't feel deserving.
Tom sat at the small, circular table and you plopped into the chair opposite him. You downed a hefty swig straight from the bottle and swallowed the liquor without flinching.
"I didn't figure I'd have company so I was like 'meh, why bother with cups and ice?'." You apologized with a shrug and handed the bottle over.
"Quite alright." Tom insisted, with something like admiration.
You two passed the bottle back and forth, talking all the while. Obviously you knew what he did for a living and thought it superior to your own work: handmade dresses and accessories. Tom, however, seemed to find it exceedingly cool and declared himself jealous of your sewing skill.
Family, hobbies and music came up. You confessed that he was how you got into M83. Tom got the most adorable grin on his face. Emboldened, you leaned across the table and pressed your lips to his.
How you ended up in his lap you weren't sure but you both seemed glad for it. He radiated the perfect heat and your head fit his shoulder like a couple of LEGOs. As wonderful as this was, you were growing restless.
"Let's go out and do something fun!" You chipped, hopping to your feet.
"Karaoke, roller disco, firefly hunting? I dunno." You answered and grabbed Tom's hand.
There was food and dancing and a good deal more drinking. Eventually, everything was a blur of sensation and your universe was simply him.
"Fucking shit." You whined in distress as a grating alarm jarred you into consciousness.
"Seconded." Tom grumbled and groped around for his phone. He found it and shut off the alarm, then tended to a deluge of messages and notifications. Texts from Luke, Ben and most frightening of all: his mother, all talking about the same thing but freaking out in varying degrees.
"Oh my god." Tom looked at his left hand and discovered a plain, gold band.
"What's up?" You wondered, eyes still closed.
"Look at your hand." He said, trying to stay measured.
You gave them both a glance and like a shot you were sitting up in bed, pointing at your ring.
"Where did this come from?! What'd we do? Shit!"
"Apparently there are pictures of us on the internet." Tom breathed. "And these aren't just for show."
You looked from your ring to his. They matched.
"Okay. Jesus Christ, I'm sorry." How had you done something so stupid? Tom would definitely think you were some kind of psycho. "We gotta get this thing annulled."
Tom thought for a long moment. "Do we?"
You giggled in disbelief. "What?"
"I'm serious. I'll do whatever you want; but we get on well together. I like you, I care for you." He was wary, uncertain, not of what he was proposing but of your reaction. "My mum is always saying things happen for a reason..."
You wanted this, more than you even realized. Tears welled in your eyes and washed day old mascara down your cheeks.
"Alright." You sniffed. "Prepare to be hugely disappointed."
Tom scoffed and dried your face with the corner of a blanket. "I wanted you since I first saw you. You couldn't possibly disappoint me."
Damn him. He had you crying all over again, glad tears, warm and sweet as you kissed your husband.