Chapter Text
It was going to be a great weekend. At least I kept telling myself that. I remember I had been reluctant to answer my phone when Brian had called, but he was desperate and needed my help, and I was, as he enjoyed reminding me, the best in the business. I just wished I got paid to do what I did. I sometimes felt like a fraud calling myself a Professional Handler when I was only a gopher, a volunteer to help care for guest talent at conventions. To anticipate their every need, to make sure they were well fed and kept safe from the public. I had an uncanny ability to blend into a crowd, but also keep the talent safe from the desperate grasping hands of the most ardent fan. I was also able to disconnect from the razzle dazzle, the awe of celebrity. I was a professional mommy and sometimes bodyguard.
The automatic doors to the hotel swooshed open, the frigid air conditioning blowing out into the unusually warm October afternoon. The wheels of my carry-on bag click-clicked over the marble floor as I looked around the lobby for a familiar face. I had worked this convention off and on for a few years; I knew quite a few of the staff. And it looked as if no one was here to meet me and give me my marching orders for the weekend. The lobby was humming with sustained excitement from the early attendees. The convention officially kicked off the next afternoon, but there were a few pockets of cosplayers in groups, squealing and laughing loudly, walking around the lobby along with harried staff and volunteers. But no one I recognized immediately. Pulling my carry-on, I walked up to the hotel registration and checked in. Familiar tiny envelope holding two plastic room keys, four nights, check out is at 11a on the last day, please feel free to eat in our four star restaurant, and please enjoy your stay. Same old song and dance. I took my room keys and walked to the elevators to go up to my room. I smiled to myself, knowing this would be the one and only time I wouldn't have to wait ten minutes for a bloody elevator to take me anywhere. This time tomorrow, and for the next three day, it would be full of Homestuck, Hetalia, Silent Hill, and Dr Who cosplayers, along with their parents and regular hotel guests. The doors snicked open; Brian was inside on the phone. His eyes lit up when he recognized me as I boarded and pushed the button for floor sixteen.
“I don't care, please...just go ask Matt, he’s in the business office, he should have the extra duct tape....ok, if you can't find him or the tape, then go to registration, and they’ll probably have some...anything else? Cool, text if you need anything.” Brian shoved his phone into his pocket, his eyes squeezing closed in frustration.
I looked at him sideways and smirked. “So! Everything going alright?” I grinned. I knew he was busy and frustrated and relieved to see me.
He gave me some serious side eye as he began reaching for me. “Becca, shut up and show me some love. How was your drive down? Uneventful?” Brian asked as he pulled me in a fierce hug. It was the hug of an overworked and exhausted man, and his weekend of fun had just begun.
I patted him on the back, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away. “It was fine, same old drive. I was surprised you phoned. What happened to your other handler?”
Brian rolled his eyes skyward and sighed. “Julie decided she didn't want to help at the last minute. You know how she claims to be so good at her job and helpful, has so much experience and has all of these contacts and has handled blah blah blah celebrities and she is the biggest flake I’ve ever worked with. But I have to play nice with the woman since she’s BFF’s with some important industry people. Pisses me off. You’d think I’d learn my damned lesson and not ask her to help, but I can't not ask her - she’d spread that info like wildfire and then my guest contacts would dry up. Dammit, I hate playing this bullshit game of politics. But I’m glad you are here!” Brian winked. I laughed as the doors to the elevator opened to the sixteenth floor. Brian followed me out and walked with me to my room. I noticed I was down the hall with some of the suites. It looked as if they put me on the same floor as the talent - ah, this must be the green room and private party floor for the guests.
“Well, I don't like dealing with her either, my dear, but she is who she is and we have to work with her if we want to make nice in this field. Especially in the Midwest, for god’s sake.” I pulled out my key and opened the door to my room. Standard double queen room, bathroom to the right, TV armoire to the left, requisite chair and table with large lamp in the corner. And a door to the next room on the left wall. “This part of the country is way too small, and we all know each other too well, so it makes dealing with her difficult.”
I turned the light on in the bathroom area and walked into the main room. “The hotel remodel is quite nice. I’ll miss the tacky eighties bedspreads and pastel southwest pottery art prints,” I said, turning and winking at Brian.
“Yes, I’m glad they finished in time for the event. But I will always have a soft spot for the dingy decor.” Brian walked over and sat on the farthest bed, leaning back onto his hands and sighing heavily. I pulled my suitcase onto the bed closest to the bathroom and unzipped, preparing to unpack. Brian watched me; he was suddenly curiously quiet. It was out of character for him. He was bubbly and happy to see me moments ago. I knew he wasn't interested in watching me unpack my undies; he didn't bat for my team, and something was on his mind.
“Brian? What is it? Did you really want to help me unpack or did you have something to talk to me about? Or are you thinking of hiding in my room all weekend?” Brian looked up at me, his eyes crinkled with suppressed mirth and exhaustion. I grinned, grabbing my toiletries from my suitcase, and walked them to the bathroom.
“Well, I wanted to let you know who you’d be handling this weekend. I didn't want to just have a volunteer hand you the binder without me talking to you about it first. And hopefully when I tell you, you will understand why I asked you to come in and do it.”
I came back to the bed and pulled my socks from my carry-on. This was intriguing, and I didn't understand. I knew he wanted me to help, but I wasn't anything super fantastic to be brought in for extra special cases; I wasn't that great. I mean I was good at what I did, but I wasn't a specialist. Usually when I was working a convention, I would show up and a guest packet would be handed to me and then I was done. I would have no idea ahead of time who I was working with, and I was curious that Brian wanted to speak to me about it now. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Alright? What do you mean?”
Brian cleared his throat and shifted to the edge of the bed. “I originally asked Julie to do it because of who she is, and she wanted very much to come in and specifically handle him for the weekend; in fact she begged me to do it, so I said sure. But for the last few months she had been bugging me for his personal contact info, not just the phone and email through his agency, but his personal cell number and private email. She kept telling me that she wanted to ‘get to know him better to help her do her job’, so I refused to give it to her. She should have known better; if she’s such a professional, she knew I couldn't break that kind of confidentiality with a guest. Anyway, she acted really weird about it, almost obsessive. So, when she decided this past weekend she wasn't coming, I called you. I know you won't act any differently around him or treat him in a way that would make him uncomfortable. I need someone to handle him and take good care of him, not try to make him feel awkward, you know? He’s only appeared at the big conventions before and I want his first impression of a mid-sized event to be a good one,” Brian said, his brow furrowed. Julie’s behavior upset him, I could tell by the look on his face. Julie was a starfucker, without the sex. She loved to “collect” celebrities, to make claim on them to make herself feel important and relevant. That’s not the way it was, at least not in my book. Being a handler to a celebrity who is already on guard because they are at a public event for the weekend, in a strange city surrounded by people they didn't know, making sure they are safe and taken care of and they get their own space, you treat them like they are family visiting from out of town. You don't try to worm into their life and become their very best friend. Her actions frustrated me.
“Yes I know. So her flaking out on you was a blessing in disguise, then?” I smiled, pulling open the armoire and putting my unmentionables in the drawers.
“I suppose you could look at it like that. I’m just glad your weekend was free. You really did save my ass on this one. I owe you one,” Brian said, smiling.
“Ha! We’ll see about that. You haven't told me who this mysterious person is yet,” I said, laughing at him and emptying my suitcase of straggling miscellanea.
Brian watched me put the rest of my things away and zip up the empty carry-on. After hanging up all of the clothes I couldn't put in the drawers and stowing my suitcase in the closet, I walked out from the bathroom area and he just grinned at me.
“Brian, are you going to tell me or what? You’re sure as hell beating around the bush about it. Who is it?” I asked, watching him. His cheeks were pink with excitement, and for someone who was in charge of an entire convention and who had met countless celebrities in his day, he was acting a little weird. I was waiting.
“You are handling Tom Hiddleston.”
I stared at him. I couldn’t speak. I felt my stomach fall to my knees and a furious blush race up my neck and settle nicely onto my cheeks. It took every stitch of decorum I had to keep my shit together as I stared quietly at him. Inside my head, I was screaming. I raised my eyebrows in surprise and swallowed thickly.
“Oh - oh? Really? I had no idea you got him. Well done...wow. And you want...me to be his, uh...his handler for the weekend then?” I felt ridiculous; I wasn't going to make it through the rest of this conversation. He was going to find out and it would all be over.
“Yes I do. You are the only person I trust to take good care of him. I’ve got his guest packet on the way up here so you can go over his paperwork. Once you’ve gotten caught up on his rider and his needs, please make sure you get over to his room to have him fill out the necessaries and get it back to me when you can. I’ve also included a few copies of the convention schedule, along with his personal schedule, so you know where he needs to be when and all of that. I emailed the Drive link to his schedule if you want it.” Brian stood up and walked towards my door. My knees started knocking. “You won't have to go very far; he’s already checked in, and I put you in the room next to his in case he needed anything, so if you want, you can just pop in next door and introduce yourself after you’ve done your homework. Sound alright?”
I smiled and nodded; I was incapable of intelligent speech at the moment. Brian’s phone chose that time to ring, and with a wave, he left with the phone to his ear. My door shut quietly behind him and I sat down heavily on the bed. I stared at the wall directly in front of me. TOM HIDDLESTON WAS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THAT WALL.
This was ridiculous. I was a professional and I had to get it together. But what my head and what my emotions were doing were completely separate things. I didn't know him personally, but I knew him. I had spent many an hour looking up interviews on YouTube, scrolling Tumblr, and watching his movies and TV appearances over and over again. And it all started out so innocently. But then again, it always does.
Being the huge sci/fi and superhero geek that I was, and having a predilection for the villain in any movie, I watched him in his first commercially successful movie, Thor. I had made a mental note that he was terribly attractive with his soft darkness, and then filed that info away for a later date. I hadn't thought of him until the movie blockbuster of the summer of 2012, the Avengers. A colorful blend of all the previous superhero movies in the Marvel universe come together to fight the beautiful brooding younger brother, Loki, and his adopted army of the Chitauri. Watching him in all his IMAX 3D glory, I was in absolute awe watching this fragile beauty of a man, and I was officially hooked. At first it was all about LOKI, and then I slowly watched the first of his Avengers interviews, then his older Thor interviews, and then branched out to his earlier works in independent films and his limited television career. I was only watching for the comedic value and to get an idea of who this young actor was, I swear...at least that’s what I told myself. Then I abandoned my official Tumblr account that I used for funny cats and movie gifs and began stalking His tag under a Hiddleston specific URL. Scrolling, scrolling, scrolling...I couldn't stop myself. I had to look at him, I had to hear him, and I had to see his smiling face on my screen. He crept slowly into my psyche, worked his way into every aspect of my waking hours that not a minute went by that he wasn't on my mind. I was enthralled, and he was in the next room, waiting for me. I jumped at a sudden knock on my door. Taking a deep breath, I walked over and looked through the peephole. It was a staff runner. I cleared my throat and opened the door.
“Hi there! Here is Mr. Hiddleston’s guest packet. Brian said to get it filled out and back to him as soon as you can.” The runner was tall and thin with a mess of mousy brown hair, wearing multi-colored horns on his head and green demon contacts. I took the packet, smiling at him. I adored the volunteers. His cosplay brought me back to reality. No time to fangirl; I had a job to do.
“Thank you very much!” I said, waving and shutting the door behind the volunteer as he ran down the hall towards the elevators. I opened the plastic binder to double check his paperwork and study his entertainment rider.
“Dear Mr. Hiddleston,
Welcome to SF-Con, the premiere multi-genre convention of the Midwest...”
I grinned as I read the welcome letter. So surreal; I’d never paid much attention to these form letters, but it gave me a silly thrill to see it addressed to Himself. I got my serious face on as I made sure all the required paperwork he needed to sign was in the packet. I then flipped to the back to find his entertainment rider. I pulled this gingerly from the binder and went to the overstuffed chair to sit and read. So this is what was sent out by his agent to any convention he would ever participate in... I tried not to grin like a fool as I began reading through the legalese and getting to the point of what Mr. Hiddleston would need for the weekend.
Travel expenses, lodging, meals, green room access, panels...everything was the standard normal rider I had seen for many other actors, nothing out of the ordinary. Oh wait; this is what I was looking for:
Mr. Hiddleston requests fresh fruit and bottled water be available in any green room and in his hotel room throughout the duration of his appearance. Interesting. I wondered if Brian had seen this and had this waiting for him in his room before he arrived. I made a note to text Brian later.
Mr. Hiddleston’s alcohol of choice is any single-malt scotch, preferably Jameson or Bushmills. This should be made available to him in the green room and in his hotel room at all times. Another note; my god this man had expensive taste in his choice of liquor. But I knew Jameson was a favorite of his, and I clenched my teeth to stay on task.
Mr. Hiddleston also requests his in-room refrigerator have fresh juices and the following snacks available... I jumped up and pulled over the messenger bag. I reached in and grabbed my pink highlighter and started highlighting all of the personal things in his rider. Since I didn't negotiate the back end of these things, I had to make a list to go over with Brian before I went next door and introduced myself, in case I needed to bring him anything he needed that wasn't taken care of before his arrival.
(Optional) Mr. Hiddleston humbly requests a variety of boutique chocolates be available in his hotel room throughout his appearance, quantity up to the discretion of the event. I giggled and bit my lip. Oh, but of course he’d want something sweet in his room; he did have quite a sweet tooth.
I looked up from his rider and squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could, taking a very deep breath. No, no, no... I could feel the familiar icy hot rush of dopamine begin to race through my veins, settling menacingly behind my belly button. I was not going to do this; I am not going to do this! I capped my highlighter and flipped his rider around and shoved it back into his binder. Sitting on the edge of my chair, I stared at the door between our two rooms. I felt ridiculous and I knew better than this. If I couldn't get my shit together... My hands were moist as I dug my nails into the fleshy part of my palms. I was a grown ass woman having a ridiculous problem. I had worked with some amazing talent over the past few years at many other conventions; this should be no different. But, it was different. This was someone I admired and fawned over, and I would be in close proximity with him for the next seventy-two hours. I didn't know if I was capable of keeping it together. I looked down at my phone sitting on the table next to the binder. I could text Brian and let him know I couldn't do this, see if he could find someone else to handle Him. My God, no wonder Julie wanted all of his personal information. At this point, knowing what I know now, I’m not sure I could blame her... No, it was her creepy factor and sudden exit that forced Brian to reach out to me to come in and help. My professionalism and my ability to help the talent feel at ease in their situation. Especially because of all of the hair-brained fans Hiddleston had been accumulating. I grabbed my phone. All of the Twitter scandals, the fan meltdowns on Tumblr; I had been a cautious observer on the fringes, watching all of that unfold. Everyone had to have their opinion and their two cents, and I stayed silent and watched. I dialed Brian’s number.
“Yes!” Brian said in a frustrated rush.
“Brian, hey, it’s me. Listen, I’ve gone through Hiddleston’s binder and I -” I what? Was I going to give up and go home? Was I going to ask him to place me with someone else? Was I going to tell him, “Hey Brian, I know you called on me to help you with Tom and you are paying for my room and food for the weekend, not to mention the three hour drive it took me to get here, but, dude, I just can't help with Hiddleston because I can't guarantee that he won't be molested by yours truly...”
“Yeah! Did you need something from me? Wait,” Brian said, the phone making shuffling noises and the signal cut in and out briefly. “I forgot to tell you, Tom has a private, guest-only dinner tonight off site for all of the talent. Did you see that in the schedule?” Brian asked. I could hear the convention floor in the background. He must be at registration.
I stuttered and groped for the schedule in the binder, “Uh...yeah, I did see that. Brian, I have something I need to...”
“Listen, I went through the personal requests in his rider, and the only thing I didn't get in his room are his bottles of Jameson. They are in the green room on the same floor as you, room 1642. You should have a room key in your binder to get you in there, so please feel free to grab them and take them to him. They are under the counter in the kitchen. Other than that, everything else should be in his room already. Anything else?” Brian asked.
I closed my eyes, squeezing them tightly. My tongue felt like lead. I couldn't go through with it, I couldn't let Brian down. “No, hon, that was all. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll head over there now and get them to him. I’ll text you if I need anything else.” I hung up. Time to put on my big girl pants and go meet Tom.
I grabbed Tom’s guest binder and shoved it into my messenger bag and tossed it on the second bed. If I was going to go meet the man and break it to him that I belonged to him for the weekend, then I better make sure I looked decent. I walked to the bathroom to take a really good look in the mirror. I had piled my hair on top of my head before leaving my apartment this morning and my face was make-up free. I looked decent enough; the front layers of my bangs framed my face alright. I could have styled it a little better, but I would save that for later. I dug around in my toiletry kit and pulled out the necessary makeup tools and went to work. I didn't wear a lot of makeup in the real world, but when I worked a convention, I wanted to look my best.
As I leaned toward the mirror to apply my mascara, my mind wandered to next door. Good lord, how was I going to handle this? Brian had inadvertently given me care and charge of the one person he probably shouldn't have, and he had no idea why. I wasn't worried about doing a bad job; I was worried that I wouldn't be able to relax enough to do a great job. Hell, once I introduced myself, he may be the type of celebrity that didn't want a handler following him around; he may just want to go it alone. And even if that was the situation, Brian would want me to ghost Tom just in case. I knew Brian would most likely have some security plants in the crowd to make sure Tom was safe when we were walking to a panel or live event. But the fact remained that, regardless if Tom needed me or not, I was stuck with him in some capacity for the next three days. I owed it to Brian to do a good job, I owed it to Tom to make sure he had a great time, and I owed it to myself to make sure my reputation remained that way.
I smoothed on the last of the lip stain and squeezed my lips together. After a quick once over, I decided I had dawdled enough and left the bathroom. I grabbed my messenger bag, making sure I had all keys to the hotel rooms and his binder. I shoved my phone in the pocket of my black jeans and headed out the door.
Pulling my hotel room door closed, I looked up and down the hall to get my bearings. Looked like 1642 was on the opposite side of this floor. The sleeping towers were built in an H-shape, so it was pretty easy to find which room you needed. Going left, I walked through the quiet hallway towards the elevators. I didn't see anyone about, nor did I hear anyone. Most likely the majority of guests hadn't arrived yet. And because this floor was specifically allotted for senior staff and guest use, it would be pretty quiet, at least until everyone got here and checked in. After that it was going to be a crazy cacophony of famous people acting like normal people; drinking, yelling, laughing, giving each other a hard time, and, on occasion, hooking up as discreetly as possible, and other times NOT so discreetly.
Walking in front of the elevators, I made a quick left and went down the opposite hall towards the green room. Finding the double doors of the suite, I pulled out the room key and let myself in. The suite was large; the main room was a common sitting room complete with working kitchen with a bar to my right, enormous luxury bathroom complete with Jacuzzi tub and shower on my left, and a LCD TV in the center sitting in a huge armoire with surround sound and plush couches and chairs. Doors on the opposite walls opened to sleeping rooms that connected to the main area, while ahead of me on either side of the TV armoire were sheer curtains that covered sliding glass doors leading out to a balcony that spanned the length of the main room. To the left of me in front of the sleeping room door was a staircase against the wall that lead up to an upper sleeping area. I had been in this hotel before; I knew the stairs lead up to a large king sized bed and private bathroom with another Jacuzzi tub and separate shower. I smiled to myself, knowing someone from staff would be up later to move all the furniture up against walls to make room for the late night staff and guest-only parties.
I shut the door behind me and went into the kitchen area and started rootling around for the bottles of Jameson. I found the dark green boxes in the back under the sink, three bottles of Jameson Limited Reserve 18-year old Irish whiskey. Holy shit! Brian was trying to impress Mr. Hiddleston; this was not cheap. I grabbed two of the three bottles and put the third one back in its hidey hole. I’m sure Tom would want to drink some of it here when he spent time with the other guests. If he came to spend time here with the other guests, that is...but I’m sure he would. He does enjoy talking, and last I had checked, he was friendly enough. I stood up and placed the two bottles in my messenger bag and left the room. Pulling the door shut behind me, I leaned up against it and took a very deep breath.
I looked down the hall at where the elevators were, and my heart started beating loudly against my chest. It felt like all my blood had been replaced with ice water, and my knees went weak as I stood there, staring blankly down the beige hallway. The time had come for me to go to Tom’s room to introduce myself, and I was both excited and filled with dread. Like any other fangirl, I had dreamed and thought of the day I would meet Him; this was not what I had in mind. A chance meeting on the streets of London, seeing each other across a crowded party, or being singled out in a red carpet autograph line - that is what I had in mind. But this, it was just going to be Tom and me, in his room, by ourselves, and I knew it was going to be awkward as hell. I wouldn't have anyone to help deflect my nerves or use as a clever distraction if things went bad. I was on my own.
Somehow I found my feet and began to walk down the hallway back towards his hotel room. Passing the new and modern Scandinavian decor of the hotel hallway, I took deep cleansing breaths, trying to calm myself down. Again, I chastised myself for feeling ridiculous and made my way over the plush new hotel carpet. Past the elevators and my own hotel door, I found that Mr. Hiddleston was himself staying in a rather large suite. I cleared my throat and knocked lightly on the right side of his double doors and waited.
I could hear a faint and muffled one-sided conversation on the other side of the door - he was most likely on the phone - and then I heard it. I stifled a giggle, slapping my hand over my mouth so he couldn't hear me. It was short and quiet, but I heard the unmistakable ‘Ehehehe' coming from the source itself. I almost turned and ran. Instead, I removed my hand from my face and knocked again, this time a little louder to get his attention in case he hadn't heard me the first time. The muffled sound of his voice stopped on the other side of the door and all went quiet as I felt footsteps in his room move towards me. The urge to leave was almost uncontrollable as the next few seconds seemed to stretch into hours as I waited for that door to open. It was now or never...
The door to my left opened and I was met with 6’2” of slick blonde curls and the bluest green eyes imaginable. He was exactly as everyone had described when they met him in person; beautiful, unreal, magic. He gave me a quick, yet thorough once over as I stood there, trying not to stare. My brain had forgotten how to speak and I had to remind myself to breathe. I had lost the ability to...
“Hello?” He said, his brows furrowing briefly in a confused smile. I could feel my eyes widen as he looked at me.