#wardley

As Tom had delivered his last performance as Shane in his successful play, The Ferryman, the week before; you’d assume that he had a lot of free time on his hands. However, he was touring the UK to do promotion for The Last Post, which always tired him out. He’d come home every night and head straight to bed. This was the first weekend you two would have time for one another and you were more than ready to leave your office. 

After what seemed like an eternity, your boss let you all leave and he hadn’t seen you move faster in all of your five years of working there. The whole journey home you just scoffed and tutted to yourself because how dare people walk extra slow or take their time, preventing you from being reunited with Tom. You loved London, but it was not pretty during the dreaded rush hour where it seemed to be the breeding ground of rude and ignorant passengers; which today you were sadly in the midst of.

—–

You stepped into the threshold of your apartment, deeply inhaling the aroma that greeted you. You closed your eyes and mumbled excitedly to yourself when you heard Tom singing along to a song on the radio. You felt your heart warm at the thought of him being so close to you. After taking off your shoes and placing them to the side, you slowly walked into the open plan living room and kitchen.

Tom hadn’t notice you walk into the living room, you knew this because he continued to sing. You walked a little further and leaned half your body against the wall, crossing your arms across your chest in the process. He had his back to you, completely unaware of your presence. You admired the way his arms flexed every time he sliced and diced the vegetables. You admired the way he swayed his hips, completely in sync with the rhythm of the music. You admired the way he ran his hands though his thick, fiery ginger hair. You could be here all day listing all the reasons why you admired Tom, but you certainly admired how he looked so glorious in a white t-shirt and grey joggers.

As the beat in the song picked up, Tom picked up the chopping board and placed the vegetables in the pot. Stirring it in, he sang along as his free hand found some spices which he sprinkled in. You bounced off the wall and walked up to him. He was too engrossed in singing and stirring, he almost didn’t notice your arms snaking around his waist and up his chest. Your hands openly resting on them.

Tensing up slightly, Tom held his breath. “Whatcha’ cookin’?” You asked resting your chin on his shoulders, kissing his neck.

“Food.” Tom responded sarcastically.

“Oi.” You say, gently hitting him on the chest. “Why did you stop singing?”

“Huh?” He asked confused.

“I don’t want you to stop. I love your voice.”

“How long have you been standing there for?”

“Long enough my love.” You nuzzled your neck into Tom’s neck and inhaled deeply, enjoying the smell of his aftershave. You pecked his neck before pulling away and leaning your back against the wall.

Tom stirred the pot one last time and switched it off. “What, is it done?” You asked shocked at it cooked in a short amount of time. Tom turned around and nodded his head. A smile grew on his face as he recognized the song that had come on the radio. It was your favourite song of all time. He walked towards to you, pulling you into his embrace. His right arm rested on your waist as his left hand took your right hand, you danced like dorks in the middle of the kitchen. He twirled you around, eliciting a giggle from you before you crashed into his chest. Both of you laughing and swaying your hips to the music.

Tom wrapped both his arms around your waist, resting his head on top of yours, humming in delight. “It’s so good to see you love.” He mumbled against your hair.

You pulled away. “Right back atcha. I have a question though.” Tom didn’t say anything, just raising one eyebrow. “Why haven’t you dyed your hair back blonde?”

Tom chuckled. “I just haven’t had the chance to dye it back yet. Also, I love seeing you getting all angsty about the colour of my hair.” Tom smirked. “I know it’s effecting you in ways it shouldn’t.” Tom pulled you in, whispering into your ear. Before he could do anything else, he heard the sizzling of the pot. His head snapped in the direction of the pot.

You rolled your eyes. He always does this. “I thought you turned it off?”

Tom detached himself from you and ran to the cooker opening the lid. “I thought so too.”

“What’s the verdict?”

“It hasn’t burned. Just needs some water.” He flashed you a smile. “You wanted me to burn the veggies so we could order a chinese didn’t yer?”

You scoffed. “Psst. No.”

“Hmm.” Tom placed the lid back on, turned the temperature down and made his way back to you. “I’d like to think as my girl, you’d have a little more faith in my veggie frying skills.” He said as his arms made their way back around your waist, pulling you closely into a tight embrace. 

“You’re such a dork.” You muttered into his chest. 

“Be my king,” she said plainly. “Be my king, Wardley Ghane.”

“I need someone to temper it. A fair king. A good king.”

“I need someone to be its heart. And it can only be you.” She raised her head.

“You are the heart that this kingdom deserves.”

A tear dripped down Wardley’s cheek.

“Dinah crawled up to his feet, her head still bowed”