Doctor's Pov
I knock on the white door with the golden numbers 1010 on the front. It is a nice neighborhood, small and quaint. I nervously fix my bowtie as we wait for the door to open. Will the night go well? Will I mess up? Oh God, what if Rose's daughter hates me more after tonight?
"Oh, Doctor, stop worrying. You look fine and everything will work out," Amy reassures me. I give her an uneasy smile. While her words are comforting, they didn't exactly help. I stiffen as the door opens to reveal Tom. He is dressed in more casual clothes than the tuxedo he wore yesterday. Now he's in faded blue jeans and a blue plaited button up t-shirt. He smiles as he opens the door.
"6:30 on the dot just like you asked! So here we are!" I announce. Tom merely chuckles and invites us inside.
"This is a very nice place you've got here," Rory comments, looking around the foyer.
"Thank you! Please make yourselves at home in the living room. I've just made some tea. Gwyn isn't quite home yet, whether that's on purpose or not I don't know." Tom replies, bustling off to the kitchen. While the Ponds make themselves comfortable on the couch, I look at the various pictures on the walls. Tom and Gwyn sure do a lot of traveling. Paris, Prague, Athens, the Pyramids, the list of locations goes on and on. One picture on the mantelpiece draws my attention. It is of Rose and a much younger Gwyneth. I gently take it in my hands. It was at a birthday party, Gwyn's 10th birthday party. Rose and Gwyn were sharing a hug and smiling back at the camera. They both look perfect and happy. I feel a sad smile form on my face. Rose Tyler, on the long road… she was happy. I pull myself together as I hear Tom enter into the living room with the tea. He looks up and gave me a smile.
"Don't let Gwyn see you holding that. One of the most precious pictures she has of her and Rose together." Tom mentions.
Quickly putting it back in its place on the mantel, I grab one of the tea cups and sit next to the Ponds. Tom takes a seat on the leather loveseat across from us. We are all silent for a moment, none of us really knowing how to start the conversation.
"So Tom, what do you do for a living?" Amy inquires. I focus my attention on Tom, trying to block the negative thoughts about Rose and her daughter out of my head.
"I'm a stage actor. Mostly Shakespeare stuff but some other genres here and there," Tom replies.
"An actor? Well, how did you meet Gwyn then? She doesn't seem like the acting type," I wonder aloud. Tom starts laughing and I give him a questioning gaze. Eventually his laughs quiet down.
"Sorry, and you're right. She's not. Gwyn prefers to watch rather than get up on stage. It's actually a funny story. I was in Cardiff for a month doing some research for an upcoming role I was auditioning for. I was wandering around the local library trying to find some books on family disputes and their psychologic effect on individuals with a complicated family," Tom explains and then tells in detail about his and Gwyn's first encounter.
Gwyn's POV
Dammit. That's all I can think as I get stuck in the London rush hour traffic. I sigh, hating being late. Damn Tom and his smile. Damn him for convincing me to do this dinner. I scowl at the gridlock before me and begin day dreaming. I can't really hate him. My mind drifts to our first meeting and I smile at the memory.
I came around one of the bookshelves, not seeing the person also coming around the corner. I collide with him, the impact sending both of us to the floor and his books and my papers flying everywhere. I groaned as I got up; noticing the man lying on his back, I rushed towards him.
"Oh my God! Are you okay? I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying attention! Oh gosh! You aren't injured are you? I swear I didn't do this on purpose! I'm so sorry," I rambled nervously as the man sat up. He looked at me and gave me a grin. I felt butterflies swirl in my stomach and my throat tightened. His dirty blond hair was tightly curled and framed his face perfectly and his blue eyes shone with amusement.
"It's fine. I should be the one apologizing to you! I was to busy focusing on my own stuff to notice you coming around the corner. Are you alright?" he asks. I blush beet red and focus on collecting my dropped books and papers.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Let me just…" I sputtered, trying to collect my things. Both of our hands landed on one of my books; he picked up the book and gave the cover a curious glance.
"The Psychology of William Shakespeare?" He gave me a curious smirk as I grabbed the book from his hands and shuffled it into my overloaded arms. I felt my heart drop. No one liked Shakespeare anymore. People always thought it was nerdy and that it was for old people. I had gotten nothing but harsh comments and teasing from my peers every time it was brought up.
"Um, just some light reading while I work on my dissertation. Shakespeare is a favorite of mine," I stated and began to stand and get myself off the floor, dusting off the invisible dust on my pants.
"Mine too," he said happily. I looked up and he had such an excited grin and jump in his step. I just stared at him for a moment, then quickly regained my composure and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Yeah right. I have yet to meet a person my age who even likes Shakespeare, let alone have him be one of their favourite authors." I snorted. He looked offended at my comment. Way to go Gwyn. Cute boy and then you both tell him you like one of the most boring authors alive and insult him at the same time.
"I'm not lying!" he snapped before calming himself and clearing his throat. He shot me a cheesy grin. "What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?" he said. I blinked owlishly at him before giving him an equally cheesy grin.
"Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet
food to feed it as Signor Benedick? Courtesy itself must
convert to disdain if you come in her presence." I bantered back. He was playing the part of Sir Benedick and I Lady Beatrice from Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing.
"Then is courtesy a turncoat. But it is certain I am loved of
all ladies, only you excepted. And I would I could find in
my heart that I had not a hard heart, for truly I love none."
"A dear happiness to women. They would else have been
troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank God and my cold
blood I am of your humor for that. I had rather hear my dog
bark at a crow than a man swear he loves me."
"God keep your Ladyship still in that mind, so some gentle-
man or other shall 'scape a predestinate scratched face."
"Scratching could not make it worse an 'twere such a face as
yours were."
"Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher."
"A bird of my tongue is better than a beast of yours."
"I would my horse had the speed of your tongue and so good
a continuer. But keep your way, i' God's name. I have done."
"You always end with a jade's trick. I know you of old," I snapped before we both burst out laughing. "Much Ado About Nothing, Act 1 Scene 1. I'm impressed," I snickered. He gave a dramatic bow.
"Thank you. I have to say you also know your Shakespeare very well," he replied, looking at the books in his hand.
"I do believe you have taken one of my books by mistake," he mentioned. I looked at my armload and quickly grabbed the one that I certainly did not take out and handed it over to him.
"Studying the modern dysfunctional family? I could tell you a thing or two about that," I observed.
"In this age who doesn't? Where are my manners! My name is Tom Hiddleston," he said, holding out his hand. I shifted the books in my arm so I could shake his hand.
"Gwyneth Tyler. But most people call me Gwyn," I told him. He gave me grin.
"Well, Gwyn, how about we meet for tea and talk Shakespeare?" he asked. I felt a blush stain my cheeks and I gave him a shy glance.
"I'd like that," I murmured.
I am so caught up in my memories that I don't realize I'm pulling into my driveway until I am already there. I blow a stray lock of hair out of my face and take a moment to compose myself. Dinner with my father who doesn't know he's my father: this should be interesting. I get out of my pale blue hybrid, locking it behind me and making my way up the paved pathway to my small townhouse. Taking in another deep breath, I open the front door and am greeted by the sounds of laughter.
"And Gwyn's all like, 'Well then you've got your history wrong!' and proceeds to debate with the historian why Shakespeare was indeed bisexual and all the evidence that supports it. I had to drag her out of the museum," Tom babbles on to our houseguests. Well, at least they are getting along. Tom gets along with practically everyone. I take off my jacket and prepare my mind for the night ahead.
"I'm home!" I shout into the house and I'm welcome with a shuffle and then the sound of glass breaking. God, I hope Tom hadn't used our good china tea set.